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Chapter 28 - Reminiscence

Six years later...

Finally. It has been six years since Solano's invasion. It is almost unbelievable how peaceful life in this castle has become, in a way.

I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling of my bedroom. Just outside the door, I can hear Thys's subtle footsteps. She remains as diligent as ever, endowed with an incredible sense of alertness. In the past, the moment I woke up she would already be at the ready to dress me, but over these last two years, she has let me change clothes by myself more often. For me, that is already an immeasurable relief.

Just thinking that I spent seven long months bedridden just so I could see and walk again... and another four months of torturous rehabilitation to be able to use my psion energy again. It is still an anatomical miracle that I didn't die of a collapse that day at the guardhouse. I paid a high price, in various ways.

During my recovery, I was strictly forbidden from leaving. For a long time, I couldn't even see Master Balin or set foot in the forge. The guard soldiers looked at me with a mixture of absolute respect and terror—though I felt it was much more terror than respect. Not that I didn't help cultivate that reputation, pulling a few pranks in the guardroom, pulling sheets, and knocking over helms with telekinesis. Usually, those jokes ended with Katriny giving me endless lectures on monastic discipline and scolding me for making mischief in my fragile condition.

The stronghold has grown exponentially over these years, and so has Tegumo. We now have a larger military garrison and a thriving commerce. Thanks to the stabilization of salt and sugar, my father, Lord Arl, achieved the title of Count. But the real leap came with the introduction of the soap and basic sanitation I designed; that earned him the appointment of Marquess, considered a monumental feat both for post-war recovery and times of peace.

As I had mentally promised on the day of that fateful exorcism... I made my father's life a living hell with my inventions. I would have loved to introduce gunpowder once and for all, but I still lack a way to apply it together with this world's magic without causing a disastrous accidental detonation. So, I directed my three hundred and forty-seven years of accumulated intellect toward civil engineering: sanitation and architecture. The problem is that local administration urgently needs to be modified. Trying to calculate the fluid drainage of a public washroom when the bureaucrats here use papyrus, cuneiform writing, and don't even grasp the mathematical concept of "zero," gives me colossal migraines.

The King now looks upon our province with very bright eyes, and there is already talk of elevating my father to Duke. As a result, our family, including my mother Lady Sylvia, has been invited to officially participate in the royal court's festivities. I, however, run from these events like a scalded cat. I ended up earning two unwanted aristocratic titles. The first is the "Blue Demon of Vance"—a nickname Katriny loved adopting and uses to tease me whenever I do something wrong. The second is "The Realm's Weirdo," purely because I demonstrate far more patience talking to heteromorphs than to the starch-stiff nobles of the court.

To my pragmatic mind, the aristocracy is a drag anchor; democracy would be an acceptable transition, but the correct structural model would be a federative integration based on technological advancement, like what occurs in planetary expansion stages. Space... I sighed. I probably won't live long enough in this incarnation to see Aegis's orbit from above. Well, but down here I can still cause quite a bit of damage. At least with that, I amuse myself.

Every four to six months, Valeria and the twins come from Tigris to visit me. The physical advantage of the tiger race in close combat is absurd, but they lack refinement in using magic. Valeria is the exception to the rule; it was recently discovered that she possesses a formidable mana reserve, a magical pool that sets her apart from the others. As for the twins... they are two muscle-heads. There isn't a single visit where we don't end up fighting in the courtyard. Until I was eleven, I lost every single match to them, but that only motivated me to intensify my tactical training with Katriny and the Captain of the Guard. Now, the twins complain in unison because they can no longer beat me. Even with twice my physical strength, they can't keep up with my trajectory calculations. To be honest, every visit they try some new trick or ability, making the fight increasingly fierce.

My ceremonial daggers, the ones I received as a gift, literally dissolved in the attack on the guardhouse. When I oversaturated them with psion beyond the limits of material physics, I ended up molecularly disaggregating them to create that destructive effect. Even I was surprised that a meager piece of molten metal was left on the battlefield to tell the tale. Katriny warned me that the Holy Realm would hardly send other ceremonial weapons like those, as the forge depended on extremely rare materials.

I had to content myself with using common metals, and I continue my academic search for a metallic alloy that better suits psion and offers an efficient energy transmission rate. Copper, silver, and gold conduct well enough, but they lack impact hardness. The ideal would be an alloy of platinum with titanium and carbon steel... but just thinking about the steelmaking technology required to forge that, I'm sure I'd give Master Balin a heart attack.

Speaking of economics and geopolitics, in the Tigris Kingdom, they now possess vast fields of beet and cassava, thanks to the advice I gave. I am still waiting for the sugarcane saplings that the Baron of Tegumo promised to provide. I helped plan four integrated farms in his region. Currently, they produce salt for the entire realm and still export the surplus. This wealth elevated the Baron to the title of Viscount, and to this day he sends me scrolls and rare books as thanks. Our province got the monopoly on refined sugar and soap production. Thanks to this, one sees fewer washerwomen pounding clothes in a rustic way on river rocks; after nagging my father endlessly, we built community washrooms and public toilets with drainage. Of course, the plumbing engineering had initial trouble and earned me three months of punishment locked in my room, but the result was worth it.

As for my arsenal, Master Balin built some fantastic devices based on my technical sketches: a mechanized gauntlet that fires pressurized metal needles, an absurdly light armor, four quick-draw short swords magnetically fixed to my back using the well-known sticky stones, and two twin magic steel swords. They are light and feature elemental conductors—one forged with the core of a fire creature, and the other with fragments of an ice beast (I still haven't memorized the biological taxonomy of local monsters). Unfortunately, there was no way Balin could forge weapons of other elements; fire and ice are the most common biological anomalies to extract around here.

Despite the setbacks, my efforts bore fruit. In these six years, my psychic proficiency has evolved. I can use telekinesis surgically, psychometry allows me to read residuals on objects, and I can trigger flashes of precognition in the heat of battle. Pyrokinesis and cryokinesis I can already channel directly into the blade of the swords. I still have difficulty replicating the destructive power I unleashed in the stronghold, mainly because I developed a traumatic block about ending up in a bed again... But my daily training with the Captain of the Guard is slowly making him recognize my strength, to the point of attracting unwanted spectators in the courtyard.

In general, I was not allowed to leave the property without my parents close by. However, to my absolute happiness, upon turning twelve, I will finally be able to cross the gates of the fortress city. I am already structuring my logistics plan to register at the Adventurer's Guild.

This, incidentally, reminds me of the colossal argument I had with my mother and father when they tried to push me into some Magic Academy in the capital. They claimed it was part of the realm's "nobility customs." My response was clear and direct: if they forced me into a carriage to that school, I would run away from home and vanish off the map.

First, they were startled, then completely uncomprehending. Their question was the classic: "But why not, Kaelen?" Because I don't have an ounce of patience for medieval etiquette. Bowing, standing up, greeting Lord so-and-query, bowing to Lady so-and-so, greeting arrogant nobles with curtseys... I feel like blowing up the imperial hall every time I think about it! What is the use of so much social bureaucracy? My mind can only think: what a waste of energy?

Perhaps due to this complete social aversion I solidified the title of weirdo, and that is why the title of weirdo suits me so well. Girls of my age group in the nobility look at me sideways and, at the same time, their parents evaluate me as if I were a prime cut of meat at the butcher shop, ready to strike at the first opportunity and guarantee the "jackpot" of a wealthy marriage between houses. I run from them like the devil runs from the cross. The first family that manages to hook me in a political marriage will win the jackpot on Eldoria's board. I am the one who runs and dodges the most to avoid this tragic fate. I think it is because of this aloof, antisocial, and irreparable behavior of mine that my parents are trying to have another child to guarantee succession.

Well, today is the first day of my countdown to freedom. Tomorrow I turn twelve. It is time to get up, prepare supplies for my birthday, and outline the scope of my entry into the Adventurer's Guild.

I concentrate a minimum of psion and, even before the doorknob turns, I say aloud:

— Good morning, Thys.

The door opens softly, and the maid gives a small, resigned smile, unstartled.

— Good morning, young master.