“You gave him a magic book?”
Vittoria’s eyebrow rose as her vision shifted from a crystal orb to her ever-so-curious husband. She hadn’t expected he’d go so far as to encourage their son’s irresponsible behavior even after she’d voiced her reservations against it. She was miffed, but didn’t want to show it.
“Yes, I did.” Adgar met her gaze, “Given the rate at which his cognitive abilities are developing, I thought it best to expose him to the arcane early on. It should instill in him an insatiable curiosity about magic, and you know very much as well as I do the value of such a mindset.”
His lips curled at the end, but Vittoria merely hummed in response, her expression visibly turning displeased.
“Surely, you don’t expect him to understand a word of it, do you?” she questioned, moving her gaze back to the crystal orb seated on the desk.
“Of course not,” Adgar immediately laughed, dismissing the absurd notion of Anakin comprehending the book’s knowledge as impossible, “Understanding the book was always out of the question. Contrary to what you might think, that wasn’t my intention in giving it to him, and I don’t know whether to be amused or concerned that you thought that I, of all people, expect a three year old to understand a sorcerer-level manuscript.”
His expression hinted at the former of the emotions, but Vittoria remained quiet. Though, he understood where his wife was coming from. His son’s extraordinary intellect fascinated even him, and lately, even he had to admit he’d been a tad excessive in testing his limits.
Adgar looked at the crystal orb, and continued, “The pictures in the book, however, should intrigue him. They are elaborate, and colorful, so they should stimulate his imagination enough for him to commit the book to memory.”
“Right...” Vittoria’s words were still unenthusiastic.
Adgar’s smile relaxed, and eyed her fixedly “Are you still upset about it? I thought you’d at least comprom—”
“Of course I am!” the displeasure Vittoria had been half-caging broke out, and her head jolted to meet Adgar’s gaze, “How could I not be? You insist on encouraging this irresponsible behavior, even after hearing my concerns about it. Arlo often forgets even the most basic of manners, and I fear that promoting this behavior will impact him negatively. How’s he to develop any self-discipline if he carries on like this? And then, what would they label him in the future? Uncouth? Imagine the social pressures he’d face!”
By the time she finished, Vittoria's breathing was slightly labored, and her palms were sweaty.
Adgar softly sighed, internally acknowledging her worries. He reached for the teapot on the tray behind the crystal orb and poured some of its contents into a floridly embellished ceramic tea cup.
The tea was one of the more pricey expenses of the Aldritch manor, and he’d imported it from the lush Walsevain archipelago specifically for Vittoria. It was her favorite.
After adding a tablespoon of sugar and some milk from the milk jar, he offered it to her, knowing it would calm her.
“Tea? It’s Cherrymint, your favorite.” he gave a half-smile, and Vittoria meekly accepted.
Adgar remained quiet for a few minutes, allowing her to drink the tea and ease up a little, before speaking, “You know, I’ve actually never seen you like this. For a moment, I wondered if you were still the same woman who had me at gunpoint when we first met. It’s remarkably interesting…”
He chuckled. Vittoria chuckled too, but it was muffled by the tea she was drinking. Adgar found her reaction to be surprising. He’d never seen her this fussy or anxious about anything. It seemed even the once famed consigliere of the Faceless Consortium was not immune to the jitters, as he’d so thoroughly heard.
Abhorrent Devil, he still remembered the nickname she’d been given. It was a horrid one, but the woman in front of him was anything but that. Like him, she was simply a parent concerned about the upbringing of their child.
Like him, she was also changing
Adgar reached for her free palm and clasped it. “I apologize for being inflexible about the matter.” his tone was apologetic, “I admit I’ve gotten a bit carried away with regards to nursing Arlo’s cognition. You’re right, I shouldn’t be encouraging him to remain awake past his bedtime. It was thoughtless of me, and had I known that it bothered you this much, I wouldn’t have insisted on it. I hope you can forgive me, Vittoria.”
He said, and inwardly reprimanded himself. His decision to encourage Arlo’s behavior could potentially be harmful to his health, and he’d been so short-sighted as to overlook it. It was unlike him to overlook things, so he introspected to find the reason for it.
I’m too eager
And ecstatic. Never in House Aldritch’s history had there been a member who’d displayed this much intelligence at the tender age of three. Since the House’s inception, records of the upbringing of all its members had been kept, and none of them were as astonishing as his son’s during their first three years.
Not a single one.
It was unprecedented, and it spoke volumes of his son’s potential. Cognition was crucial for any magic practitioner, and at three, his son’s cognition was already leagues ahead of the Aldritch members who’d gone on to become Magi.
A Magus. His son could become one of those almighty beings. The statement was far-fetched, as cognition was but one of several factors that influenced a magic practitioner’s potential, but it was enough to turn Adgar’s head.
He genuinely believed it.
House Aldritch hadn’t produced a Magus in three hundred years, and his son not only showed signs of potentially becoming the first after that time period, but also hinted at becoming one of the most powerful of them. His cognition scared him that much.
He knew if he told anyone besides Vittoria his thoughts, they’d write it off as gibberish and worry about his sanity, but he didn’t care. It was his son, his legacy. The prospect of being the father of such a figure allured him to no end, so he discarded all his dubious inhibitions.
Such greatness was only fitting for his child.
Vittoria dropped her tea cup, and placed her hand over Adgar’s, “I forgive you.” she flashed a smile, a sign she’d regained her composure, “It’s alright as long as you understand. I only want the best for Arlo, and it's about time we put a stop to this harmful behavior. It’s been going on for too long.”
“Agreed.” Adgar hummed, “I’ll lecture him about it in the morning, but for now, we should get him to bed. It’s nearly one o’clock.” his ocean blue eyes twinkled as he telepathically communicated with the mechanical owl.
Inform Annette that Arlo is awake and roaming the library. Instruct her to put him to bed at once, and ensure he falls asleep.
The light the crystal orb emanated dulled, and the vision of Arlo he and Vittoria had been watching faded. Seeing that, Vittoria visibly relaxed.
“Have you thought about my proposal?” she suddenly asked, and Adgar’s eyebrow lifted.
“That?...Well, yes I have…”
“...And?”
“I’m in support of it.” Adgar opined, “I agree with some of your observations, and I’ve already informed Edward about the decision. He’s to submit the list of suitable houses to me tomorrow. If you desire to see it, I’ll show it to you.”
“Good.” Vittoria gave a slight nod, satisfied that Adgar supported her judgment, and had already made the necessary adjustments, “As for showing me, there’s no need. Just make sure that House Beckett, House Strader and the Royal Family are included. It’s imperative.”
“Right..” Adgar mumbled, and reached for the tea tray to pour a cup for himself. A few moments later, he added, “You really think they’re like him?”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
His tone was dubious, but Vittoria merely smiled, “It's just a hunch.”
“...A very strong one.” Adgar included, his tone turning even more dubious. Vittoria’s speculations were too absurd. It was already a miracle that they were fortunate enough to encounter one, yet here she was insinuating that there may be three more.
That was already more than the number recorded since The Shardfall. Her speculations were simply ludicrous.
“I know how ridiculous it sounds.” Vittoria sighed, acknowledging the absurdity of the situation. “But you know very well that aether never lies. I’m certain I'm reading it correctly, so as farcical as it sounds, there may be more than just Arlo.”
She hadn’t the slightest doubt that she was interpreting the aether fluctuations she’d been sensing incorrectly. It had taken her months of meticulous discernment before she’d even dared to discuss the possibility of such an anomaly happening. The reality of it frightened even her.
Adgar remained quiet as she spoke. Like Vittoria, he was certain what she’d read was accurate. She was a Stage II sorcerer, just like him, so the probability of her speculations being false was near zero — sorcerers possess extremely powerful mastery over the arcane, so the prospect of making a mistake in something as simple as aether perception was simply laughable.
He knew this, yet still remained dubious. Her speculation was that scary to entertain.
Throughout The First Domain’s recorded history, there have been two instances in which Fated Ones walked its surface.
The first, one Fated appeared, and The First Domain faced its first crisis.
The second, two Fated appeared, and The First Domain faced total destruction.
According to Vittoria, this time, not one, or two, or three, but four Fated had appeared.
Its implications could only be imagined, but Adgar was certain of one thing. Fated Ones were calamity magnets, so the outcome of four existing at the same time would be nothing short of apocalyptic.
“I don’t really know what to say…” Adgar rubbed his temples, and sipped his tea, “If four of them have really appeared, then Arlo’s upbringing should be the least of our worries.”
“Should we inform the family council? This technically counts as an existential crisis.” Vittoria suddenly asked, concern evident in her tone.
“Absolutely not.” Adgar sternly rebuffed, “Not until you’ve confirmed that four have indeed appeared.”
He was completely against the idea of doing so until she was absolutely certain. Informing the Aldritch family council of the matter would be revealing Arlo’s status as a Fated, and that was something he wouldn’t do unless absolutely necessary.
Fated had the extraordinarily powerful ability of passively transforming other people’s fates, and Adgar didn’t for a second doubt that the council’s old fogeys would seek to use it to their advantage. Some of them hadn’t seen an ounce of progression in the arcane in decades, so their desperation was something he’d never overestimate.
His son was no tool, and he wasn’t so naive as to think none of them would harbor such thoughts upon receiving the news. Nor was he altruistic enough to care about their progression.
Their time had long passed.
“Alright.” Vittoria lightly exhaled. She wasn’t as knowledged as Adgar concerning Aldritch family matters, but still supported his stance. She knew that, whatever the reason for his refusal was, it was good, and it was in Arlo’s best interest.
Just as silence was about to descend the room’s atmosphere, Adgar suddenly remembered something, and spoke, “By the way, has it changed again?” He put down his tea cup and stared at Vittoria.
Vittoria’s amber eyes gleamed in realization at Adgar’s statement, “Right, I nearly forgot to check. How careless of me…” she mumbled, placed her tea cup down, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.
She steadied her breathing, and outstretched her arms, sensing the ebb and flow of the room’s ambient aether. It was all around her, as it usually was, and it caressed her with its familiar warmth and euphoria.
Arlo Aldritch
With all the concentration she could muster, she conjured the image of her son’s bewitching face, and tugged at the aetheric flow. The moment she did, her eyes shot open, and intricate gray magic circles materialized in her pupils and around her arms.
[Fate Rendering]
Her vision blackened, and the world around her changed— a gray mist-like conjuration of the Aldritch library manifested. It was the exact same as its real-life counterpart, with even the tiniest of details being perfectly replicated.
Vittoria paid no attention to the rest of the conjuration, and instead, focused her attention in the direction Arlo was reading in. Without much fanfare, she walked towards it, and within moments, the familiar figure of her son was in front of her.
Though, it was gray, and mist-like, like everything else. The boy was still reading the magic book he’d been given. It seemed the person her husband sent to put him to bed had yet to reach him.
Smiling, she waved a hand, and the next second, a gargantuan thread the width of a three-lane highway materialized in the library’s ceiling.
It was Arlo’s fate thread, the metaphysical representation of his fate.
Vittoria snapped her fingers, and she appeared right beside it, hovering in the air. Arlo’s fate thread, like all Fated, was indescribably hazy, with no single portion of it being remotely discernible. What’s more, it had an incomparably deep foreboding aura that warded itself against any wisp of fate magic, even that performed by Magi.
Fated cannot be touched, even by the almighty Magi
The words her father had lectured her with resurfaced, and for a moment Vittoria felt like she was dreaming. Here she was standing before the one thing she had assumed she would never encounter throughout her path as a dunamancer.
The fate thread of a Fated.
The odds of encountering one were astronomically low, given the nature of Fated Ones. They are people with fates so powerful and complex that their destinies are unpredictable. They are tied to events of indescribable importance, and have the potential to permanently change entire domains.
They were freaks of nature
Vittoria lightly shook her head, and concentrated on the task at hand. With a wave of her hand, she channeled aether across Arlo’s fate thread, and closed her eyes. Initially, she encountered firm resistance, but after a bit of skillful wiggling she broke through, and covered its entire width.
13.7 meters. For Solaris’s sake! It’s still increasing!
She groaned as her face contorted uglily. The measurement was bad. Why was it still increasing? Why was it even increasing to begin with? The fate threads of Fated were not supposed to do that. Arlo’s fate thread started out at 10 meters, 3 meters wider than the threshold for a Fated One, and had been increasing over the years.
The rate at which it did so varied, but it didn’t make it any less concerning. The largest it had increased by after a single event was a meter, and that was, weirdly, when Arlo had taken his first steps. Now, just from him reading the magic book, it had increased by a whopping 0.8 meters!
It was just as Adgar had feared, another drastic jump. She’d tried to theorize reasons for Arlo’s unusual fate thread, but couldn’t cough up any. It defied all logic, and only exacerbated her anxiety. The wider it got, the more dicey his life was bound to be.
That was the last thing she wanted for her precious little baby.
In frustration, Vittoria dismissed Arlo’s fate thread, and canceled her spell. The light of the world shone through her bloodied eyes, and fatigue overwhelmed her body.
“It’s increased again.” she whimpered as she collapsed onto her chair’s back, “this time by almost another meter…” her words trailed off as she lost consciousness.
Instead of her chair’s back, her back met Adgar’s warm arm. He grabbed the handkerchief from the desk, and wiped the blood from under her eyes, trying his best to keep his chaotic emotions under control.
“Rest now, my love.” he mumbled as he lifted her off the chair, and into his arms, “You’ve done well.”
He carried her to their bed, and laid her down peacefully. After ensuring she was tucked in comfortably, he grabbed his tailored jacket, and rummaged through its pockets in search of something. It had been draped over his chair.
After finding it, he left the room, and made his way to the manor’s gardens. The walk was quiet, but his thoughts made it particularly notable. Adgar was troubled.
With a snap of his finger, he lit his half-smoked cigar, and inhaled a lungful of smoke.
It was terribly cold, but Adgar didn’t care. He sat down on the wooden chair beside the flower bushes and rubbed his hands.
Father, I really, really miss you…
He closed his eyes as he looked heavenward. His father remained quiet, but the howling winds and rustling leaves didn’t.