The wind rustled the leaves of an apple tree next to where I sat on a bench. My mother was seated just under the group of apple trees, carefully embroidering a piece of cloth. In the middle of a garden there I sat next to the vedge patch. Green grass surrounded me, and the smell of spring flowers wafted through the air. I carefully put my hands down on the seat around me, twisting in an attempt to climb down from the bench.
My hands were still too small and chubby to grab anything, and my limbs still had barely enough muscle for me to walk, let alone hang off the bench. My arm muscles strained, but it wasn’t enough to keep me hanging. Falling hard to the ground and landing on my bottom, the tears welled up in my eyes from the pain. Dang those baby hormones. Shaking off the throbbing feeling in my buttocks, I stood up and wobbled over to the patch of daffodils that my mom had recently planted.
It had been around a year since I had been born into this world. “Aci”, as they called it, was a magical world. Of course, I already knew that from my short time with Azareth, the demon who had spoken to me in the mysterious light room. The language they spoke here was different, but I learnt it quickly and was almost fluent. I never talked around my parents, as I didn’t want to raise any suspicion. I had decided in a few months I would start with a variation of mama or papa, and then make it seem as if I was learning the language as usual. Being able to gather information through them talking would hopefully pay off in the future.
The other parts of the world were similar to Earth’s: environment, some customs, and cuisine. The social gatherings tended to differ, however. The most common event was when someone caught a demon and the whole town chased it out screaming, calling guards and priests. It seemed Azareth wasn’t lying when he said the religious would hate my power. They hated anything to do with demons, and unfortunately, I had nearly everything to do with demons. I only used my power in secret and at night when I was sure that I was alone in my room. I would practice drawing circles every night in hopes that I would summon one.
Azareth had done something in that white space that made it easier to use my power, only having to draw a circle to use it. It was apparently different in this world. Information on my special magic was buried in the back of my memories—probably left there by Azareth—and it took months for me to even learn the basic circle pattern. Before that, I had tried nearly every shape before learning that the circles had to be just right. Shaky circles could barely stay lit up while I drew the interior design, which also took time to learn. I had previously just drawn whatever shapes came to mind inside, before I finally drew a star. I hadn't been able to summon an imp yet, but I could feel it using my power in an attempt to.
I realized soon enough I couldn’t just summon any demon of any strength. As of now I could not even summon the imps—the lowest of the low in the demon hierarchy ranks. It took some focus, but I soon found out that I had two magical storages. One was for regular magic and the other for my demon magic. As for my demon stores, I could feel it depleting every time that I tried to draw a circle. Right now, it took about fifty failed circles to fully deplete that magic store, and every time I did, I could feel it slightly increasing. I was sure that once I had a few circle patterns in the bag, each one after that would get progressively easier.
Mother watched me as I began wobbling around the garden. Her name was Arin Baldorbain, as I had learned from the papers she had on her desk. I usually sat on her lap as she worked on her sewing or lesson plans. She was a proficient mage, and would often leave the house to teach at the local school. She gave lectures, usually, but also gave assignments now and then. She also studied the properties of magic, and was well-regarded throughout the magic community, having received titles for her findings.
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Even though I might remember my past life, my undeveloped mind still had childish instincts. Mother walked over to me where I was laying in the dirt. Reaching down and picking me up, she spoke in a sweet voice. “Come on Dalleon, time for supper.” She sighed. “You can play there, but please don’t mess up the flowers Dal.” She brushed off my clothes and carried me into the house. Father—A man named Elias Baldorbain—sat at the entrance, carefully polishing his longbow. He was a well built man. I had heard that he had trained in archery since five years old, and was one of the few people in Aci that could draw a massive war bow. From what I was able to gather they can cleave though armoured Knights at up to 600 meters.
“Elias, come say hello to your son.” Father looked up to see me dangling from Mothers grasp.
He carefully propped his bow against the wall and walked over to embrace us both. “Have a good time in the garden?” Mother nodded. Father smiled and turned his attention to me, pinching my cheek. “Did you do anything, Dal?” He looked at me with a stern look in his eye, before breaking into laughter. He gave Mother a quick kiss on the cheek before scooping me up and whisking me to the table. Father had commissioned me a special seat with steps so I could access it and a leather strap so I wouldn’t fall out. He slightly assisted me as I slowly climbed up and then strapped me in.
Our cook had prepared a multi-course meal today with a soup appetizer, some meat that looked nearly identical to steak, fresh bread, something that seemed to be a take on stir fry, and a few other dishes that I couldn’t see. Father was a minor lord, so we had dinners like these every day.
My parents brought out a small clay bowl, and filled it with a few small pieces of the steak and veggies. They handed it to me, and I began eating. I was at the age where they still needed to oversee my eating, but I would be the one to feed myself. I tried to eat in a way that lacked fine motor skills and got food all over my face. I still needed to look like a baby. The façade was tiring to keep up, but I only had to do it for about eight hours a day, and I could gradually remove it as I got older.
I assumed that I could drop it completely by the time I got to around six or seven. The adults chattered, and I continued to enjoy my meal. The steak was very juicy, the flavour exploding in my mouth as I bit in. The veggies were a little more disappointing, soggy and slightly spongy, but still tasted good. Extra salty, Father’s favourite. I suppose the people in this world didn’t know about high blood pressure—caused by excess salt and other things.
Soon, supper was cleaned up and I was picked up by a maid for my bath. This maid was my favourite, even though I didn’t yet know her name. She bathed me every Tuesday and Thursday. She was gentle and used a small cup to wash me down. She carried me to the small bathroom. The maids usually washed me in the sink, filling it up with the water from a small basin set nearby. The water wasn’t heated, in fact it was freezing in the winter. It was early spring, so I hoped that it would start getting warmer soon. It made me miss the hot showers I used to have.
She sat me down and the sink, and the usual process proceeded. Get me wet, lather me up, rinse, and dry me off.
After I was done, they put on a diaper (a reusable one made of cloth.) She dressed me in my night-time clothes, a sort of silk dress sewn together at the bottom that resembled a sack, and carried me out to the lounge area where my parents sat, each with a glass of wine. The maid placed me in my mother’s lap.
“Goodnight Dal. Love you so much.” She said, kissing my forehead before handing me over to my dad.
He ruffled my hair. “Goodnight, buddy. Sleep well.” He gave me back to the maid, who took me upstairs. We walked down the hall to the furthest room.
We entered my room and the maid sat me on the floor while she lit a lamp. The walls were painted with bright colours, and there was a bookshelf full of books for my mom to read, a small crib that I slept in, and a chair where my mother would sit to read. There was a window with a little ledge that I could stand on and see the whole of the garden. The room also doubled as a reading room, so my mother would come in here and read anything from scholarly papers to romance to fantasy.
The maid walked back over to where I sat, picked me up, and lowered me into my crib. “Goodnight, Master Dalleon.” She walked out, closing the door behind me as I laid down, pretending to sleep until the coast was clear.
I counted to fifty, then a hundred, then two hundred, before deciding the coast was clear. I took a deep breath, sat up, and began my nightly routine.