Chapter 2: The Plot
I had to be realistic: my head felt like it was about to explode. Forcing the Psychometry skill into a six-year-old brain, which was still weakened by the leftovers of the poison, was biological recklessness.
I had uncovered the truth, but the price was a crushing migraine that made my temples throb.At least I now knew who the traitor was.
The family coachman. However, as much as fury burned in my chest, I needed to act with the coldness of a scientist. The man couldn't do anything drastic right now; after the attack on the road, the entire fortress was on high alert.
I needed to think about how to gather physical evidence and, most importantly, how to make him expose himself. No one in the world would accept the testimony of a six-year-old child pointing the finger at a trusted adult. Even I, with my university professor mindset, wouldn't believe something like that without solid proof.I needed a long-term development plan.
A strict regimen of cellular training. To speed up my mind and strengthen this new vessel, food would be important, but psychic training would be my absolute priority. I calculated that if I used Psychometry and Telekinesis once or twice a day, carefully pushing my limits, I could expand my neural pathways. In a period of six months to three years at most, I would be able to reactivate Precognition, and, who knows, my elemental gifts of Cryokinesis and Pyrokinesis.Besides training, I needed to map out the social landscape. Get to know the people in the castle and, slowly, plant the seed of suspicion. If I started showing a childish yet genuine fear every time the coachman was around, his parents would eventually notice. Yes, using simulated childhood terror seemed like a good psychological strategy.I sat on the stone floor and focused my eyes on a small wood splinter that had fallen near the fireplace.
I concentrated my mind, trying to make it move just a few millimeters with the power of pure thought.Move... I ordered internally.
A sharp sting, like a needle crossing my brain, made me close my eyes. But there was a response. The wood splinter vibrated and slid slightly through the dust. I smiled despite the pain.
The psychic channel was still there.Two soft knocks on the door interrupted my focus. It was the family's personal maid, a young woman named Thys. Her clothes were clean, her apron was neat, and my psychic perceptions caught no hostile intent coming from her.
Thys approached with teary eyes, overflowing with genuine worry."Oh, little master Kaelen..." she said,
her voice choking up as she knelt beside me.
"What did they do to you? Are you okay? Does your little chest still hurt?"
I pressed my lips together, feeling a bit uncomfortable. I was being overwhelmed with motherly love and care from all sides.
For a man who spent centuries fighting alone in interdimensional arenas, receiving so much affection in a fragile body was embarrassing, to say the least.
"Your mother is calling, young master," Thys continued, wiping away a stray tear. "Lady Sylvia said it is lunchtime. Let's go down.
Before I could react, she picked me up with impressive ease, set me down on the bed, and unceremoniously began pulling off my pants and shirt to dress me in clean clothes. My adult brain short-circuited. I instinctively shrank back across the mattress, curling up and trying to cover my small chest with my tiny arms, feeling my cheeks burn.
Thys let out a warm, amused laugh at my reaction."Young master, why the surprise? Have you forgotten that I've been doing this for you since you were a baby in a crib? There's nothing there that I haven't already seen hundreds of times!"
I turned completely red. I tried to formulate a dignified response, a proper teacher's scolding, but my childish vocal cords locked up, and all that came out of my mouth was a choking sound.
Thys’s expression softened as she looked at the center of my chest.
"My goodness... this wound is going to leave a terrible mark," she whispered, gently touching the freshly healed skin where the black arrow had struck. "Thank the gods and divine miracles that you were saved. Hardly anyone could survive that."
The hurried psychic cellular manipulation I had forced to seal my heart the day before had left the surface skin closed, though it remained reddened and sore to the slightest touch.
After dressing me in a blue linen tunic, we walked together to the great banquet hall. The high ceiling was supported by dark wood beams, and a massive table occupied the center of the room. Seated there, Lord Arl and Lady Sylvia were discussing the attack on the road in low, tense tones. They mentioned Baron Kenneth, the ruler of the neighboring province of Thalia, suspecting that the ambush bore the marks of his territorial ambitions. As soon as my small footsteps echoed on the stones, the two stopped talking immediately. Arl cleared his throat, adopting a firm posture, while Sylvia looked at me with eyes shining with expectation.
"Are you alright, my son?" she asked, leaning forward in her chair.I only nodded in a restrained way.
Silence fell over the table.
"Look, wife," Arl said, sighing and looking at Sylvia. "The shock is still too great for him. It will take some time before he speaks normally again. But don't worry, we can hire a renowned cleric or perhaps an elven bard to help heal the trauma in his mind with songs and stories."
Sylvia nodded, still worried, and then turned to me with a forced smile to try and cheer me up."I asked them to prepare your favorite sweet for the end of the meal, Kaelen. A fresh Priv pie!"
I narrowed my eyes subtly. What on earth is a Priv? I thought, diving into the few memories I inherited from the boy, trying to decipher the vocabulary of this world.Lunch went on in a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of rustic utensils against earthenware plates. When the meal ended, Thys brought out the long-awaited pie. At that moment, my Teia mind wanted to scream in frustration.
That was not a pastry pie. It looked more like a dense homemade bread, stuffed with cooked pieces of a dark, fibrous fruit that resembled an extremely sour wild apple. I took the first bite, and my face twisted into an involuntary grimace.
It was terribly tart.Who was the miserable manga author who wrote that medieval cooking was wonderful?
I asked myself, swallowing the piece reluctantly as my eyes watered from the sourness. I want to sue all of them! Heavens, I want to cry for some real sugar...Looking at my expression of pure culinary shock, Sylvia leaned forward, worried.
"Is it not good, my dear? We asked the cooks to make it exactly how you always liked it..."I forced a tight smile, chewing slowly.
No, it is definitely not good, I thought. Urgent mental note: I need to figure out how to synthesize sugar or find sugarcane on this planet as soon as possible, or I'm going to end up turning into a lemon if I keep eating these things.
Arl wiped his lips with a rustic cloth and rested his heavy arms on the table, looking at me with renewed seriousness.
"Well, Kaelen... The attack showed that the world beyond our walls is changing and becoming more dangerous. Starting tomorrow, I will hire a military instructor to begin your physical training, and I will also bring a scholar to test if you have any aptitude for the Magic Weave of this world.
For today, rest and play. Tomorrow will be a long day for you."
I looked at my new father, feeling the weight of the gears of destiny moving. Combat training and traditional magic tests. For a psychic scientist with a complete rejection of mana, that would be a fascinating scientific challenge.
