Since Mia's death, my life has taken strange turns.
No one nags me anymore for staying up late to research magic circles.
No one forces me to memorize an entire chapter of some godforsaken family's history.
No one tries to convince me to practice poetry or singing to impress girls.
I had longed for this freedom.
But now that I have it, I feel a strange emptiness.
I've lost the motivation to sneak into the library at midnight or to practice my sword swings like a madman.
I suddenly realized that the silly things I did were, in part, to get the attention of that golden-haired girl.
I miss her.
I miss those energetic yet gentle blue eyes.
And to make my emptiness worse, news arrived from the royal capital.
Luke had been 'given' to Princess Ariel by Pilemon to serve as her personal bodyguard.
This meant he was temporarily relieved of his duties to the House of Notos Greyrat. And to ensure Luke could focus on his work, he was forbidden from writing letters to anyone, including his family.
In other words, I had also lost my older brother, the only friend I had in this world.
Leaving me with only...
"How long do you plan on lying there, Atur? It's been over two months since you stopped training."
"..."
As usual, Ken appeared in my room in the morning, trying every which way to drag me out of my warm, comfortable bed.
Autumn was almost over, and winter was approaching. That dreary weather, combined with everything that had just happened, made me not want to move a muscle.
"If you don't train, you'll be sold into slavery."
Fine by me, I don't care. Ken himself said I'd be bought, so what's there to be afraid of?
"If you keep this up, I'll tell the inns not to buy you."
Like I care. If they don't buy me, someone else will. If no one buys me, I'll just wait until someone does.
"Winter is coming. Do you think a pampered kid like yourself can withstand the harshness outside the Notos mansion?"
Here we go with the threats again.
"Aren't you afraid of death?"
Of course, I'm afraid. It would be a lie to say I'm not. But I just don't seem to have any motivation to do anything else.
"Sigh... It seems I'm out of options."
Ken seemed to give up. He slowly walked to the only chair in my room and sat down. The man began to stroke his bearded chin, his eyes gazing out the window.
"Sometimes I wonder why you told me about Lord Pilemon threatening to sell you into slavery."
"..."
"My guess is that you believed I would find a way to help you."
That was true. Mia was a concubine; telling her wouldn't have done any good. So I took a gamble and told a real knight, hoping he would show me a way out.
After all, he had worked for two generations of the Notos family, right?
"Do you think what I'm doing is helping you, Atur?"
"..."
I didn't know how to answer that question. Ken was a strange, taciturn man who never went easy on me and used me like a punching bag, but it was clear that my swordsmanship today was, in large part, thanks to his instruction.
Perhaps for a knight, the best way to get stronger is to be pushed to the brink? I don't know. And right now, I didn't have the mental energy to care.
"I also guess you've realized my purpose in pushing you, because I know you're not like other children. You have extraordinary talent, a sharpness, and a persistence I've never seen before."
I frowned slightly upon hearing this assessment. I didn't think I was that easy to see through. Maybe I had been showing off my intelligence a bit too much? Perhaps.
"You will soon surpass me, perhaps even become a powerful Water God Style swordsman, strong enough to repay any debt." Ken continued without a hint of hesitation. "Even if that debt is to one of the most powerful nobles."
I glanced over at Ken, for the first time in days. His back looked as massive as a tall mountain.
"What do you mean?"
"I know you hate Lord Pilemon. For thinking you're being ostracized, for Luke being sent away, and for what happened to Mia."
"..."
"And Lord Pilemon hates you too; that's something anyone can see. Aren't you curious as to why?"
"Why?"
Ken didn't answer immediately. He just turned his head to look at me, his mouth curling into a rare smile.
"I think there will come a time when Lord Pilemon himself will tell you," Ken said. "But until then, I believe he won't just stop at selling you into slavery. And... I'm guessing you won't want to be trampled on, will you?"
Ken was clearly trying to provoke me. No matter how you looked at it, it was strange for a forty-year-old man to be saying these things to a four-year-old boy like me. All I knew about Ken over the past year was that he was bald, had a goatee, was single, and was an advanced-rank Water God Style knight with a rather quiet, calculating personality.
In other words, I knew nothing about this man or his motives. Especially when he had just told me to seek revenge against his own master. For Mia's death? I didn't think so. Ken hadn't seemed particularly shaken by the news of her death. All I remembered from that day was him glancing at me, as if to gauge my reaction.
There was a scheme afoot; I could see that clearly.
But.
Ken was right.
I've hated Pilemon since the day I was born into this world.
I will definitely punch him in the face when I get the chance.
And to do that, I have to get stronger, using the very resources he's thrown at me.
Yes, I can picture it now: me, holding a sword to that bastard's throat, forcing him to beg and tell me why he hates me so much. Not from anyone else's mouth, not from Ken's, but from Pilemon's, and Pilemon's alone.
"Alright."
I sat up, grabbed the wooden sword lying next to my bed, and walked straight out of the room.
My goal had changed. It was no longer just about living a peaceful life in Wishiru. No longer about escaping the fate of being sold into slavery. No longer about growing up, getting married, and having children. No longer simply about leeching off my big brother Luke.
I will punch Pilemon's face in.
It's decided.
A few more weeks passed. The whooshing and clacking of wooden swords echoed in the freezing winter air. I wore no jacket, only a pair of long pants, my upper body completely bare.
Ken initially advised me not to push myself so hard. But when he saw I wasn't listening, he sighed, took off his own armor, and joined me in practicing shirtless in the snow.
Truthfully, my goal wasn't just to temper my will. I was also trying to use magic and maintain it while training, but that stupid idea didn't work. I couldn't (or couldn't yet) practice swordsmanship with one hand while creating a fireball with the other.
Speaking of magic, a few days ago, by some strange means, I became able to use some fire and water magic without incantations. I tried with other types of magic, but wind and earth didn't seem to be things I could easily learn. Healing magic was completely out of my league; I couldn't cast it at all.
Why?
I tried to find an answer, but no book explained it clearly. It seemed to be a form of 'innate potential' or something 'only high-level mages can do'. But with my tiny mana pool, I was like a winged gnat, completely useless. I tried casting a single ice arrow and immediately passed out! Truly pathetic! I had even less mana than a typical beginner-rank mage.
Honestly, I don't even know how the line between 'genius' and 'useless' is operating within me anymore.
Perhaps someday I'll spend more time researching this issue.
For now, it's time to focus on swordsmanship.
"Block left!" Ken shouted, then struck to the right.
Thwack!*
I was hit on the head but quickly returned to my defensive stance, trying to suppress the pain and not let myself fall.
Master Ken was showing me the power of the North God Style. It seemed my knight instructor was not only an advanced-rank of the Water God Style but also an intermediate-rank of the North God Style. He didn't tell anyone else because among knights, the North God Style was seen as a school for ruffians; mentioning it would only invite scorn from his colleagues. Ken knew about it thanks to a short stint as an adventurer before becoming a knight for the House of Notos.
"Hehe, now I know your secret, Sir Ken."
"Go ahead and tell them if you like. I lose my job, you lose your instructor."
And so, I lost the argument right there.
He was now demonstrating to me the most basic tricks of the North God Style, including what was called Psychological Warfare and False Information.
I had already mastered the skill of 'Reading', so I should have been able to easily deal with that misinformation, but it truly wasn't easy. Ken didn't just shout and do the opposite; his movements also genuinely 'showed' that he was going to do exactly that, only to change it at the very last second - leaving me unable to react in time.
To make things even more chaotic, he would occasionally throw in accurate information, leaving me completely disoriented. The result was that I was constantly getting stabbed in the stomach, hit on the head, and suffering countless other injuries.
This guy really doesn't know how to hold back.
"Get up. It's time to play rock-paper-scissors." Ken smirked.
And I sighed. I never thought there would come a day when I'd be sick of that childish game.
"In short, you trust what you 'see' too much, Atur."
Ken concluded after hitting my head 99 times in a row with a wooden mallet.
The win-loss ratio was even worse than the first time I played with Luke. This was beyond normal cheating.
"So what do I need to do?" I asked directly, not wanting to beat around the bush.
"You have to 'feel'."
"'Feel'?"
"You're feeling confused right now, aren't you?"
"Huh? Well... of course. You asking that question out of the blue is bound to make anyone confused."
"So, what do you think a North God Style swordsman would do when you're confused?"
"What would they do?" I tilted my head. "If it's one of those scheming North God Style practitioners, they'd probably take advantage of it to attack an unguarded spot?"
"If it were me, I wouldn't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because you just told me that you anticipated it, so I would have to change my approach."
My jaw dropped.
"Wait a minute, you were the one who asked me what I would do?"
"Do you really think I waited for you to speak to know the answer, Atur?"
Ken smiled and raised an eyebrow, looking down at me as I sat opposite him.
"Now you're going to say I'm psychologically manipulating you."
"You are psychologicall—Hey, wait! What the hell!?"
"And now you're angry," Ken concluded.
I no longer understood what was happening. This old knight was suddenly reading my thoughts.
"I can't read your thoughts."
"How the hell!? You clearly know what I'm thinking! Can you really read thoughts!?"
"No. That's an advanced skill of 'Reading'."
Ken began to explain.
High-level Reading not only allows a Water God Style swordsman to 'read' an opponent's attacks, but it also helps them 'read' emotions and even, to some extent, thoughts.
At first, that sent a shiver down my spine, but Ken explained further.
"However, the fundamental principle of 'Reading' lies in the 'experience' and 'wisdom' of the Water God Style swordsman. The more people you interact with, the more you talk and communicate, and if you try to understand them, you will 'know' to some extent what they are thinking. As for the 'wisdom' part, that's about whether you're perceptive or not, which depends on innate talent."
In other words, it was a skill that could be trained. Or it could be grasped through that magical thing called 'innate talent'. It seems every discipline has this theory, huh?
"Also, there's something I think you've realized while playing rock-paper-scissors. Another important factor is 'body language'. You can grasp an opponent's emotions through what they express externally. Based on that, you can get a sense of what they're thinking. Combined with the context of the fight or conversation, predicting the future to some extent is not impossible."
In other words, the Water God Style is a school that specializes in grasping psychology. Got it. I'll become a psychologist if I master this school. Understood.
"And what do you think happens when a North God Style swordsman, who can grasp their opponent's psychology, becomes truly terrifying?"
"They'll exploit it and turn it into a nightmare."
"Exactly," Ken nodded. "The Water God Style relies on the opponent's emotions to grasp, deal with, and counterattack. The North God Style will use it to dominate. As for the Sword God Style... I don't think they care about their opponent's emotions."
That must be why the nobility favors the Water God Style so much. However, as Ken explained, it's rare for any noble to truly advance far with the 'Reading' technique; most of them stop at the 'Beginner' level, like me now.
Interesting. That means I could 'psychologically manipulate' this entire noble society if I master the techniques of both the Water God and North God Styles. The thought of it gives me a tingly, thrilling sensation.
"It's not that easy."
"Gah. Stop reading my thoughts!"
"It's written all over your face," Ken shrugged. "Your idea isn't theoretically impossible, but most high-ranking nobles have powerful bodyguards following them. The moment you try any tricks, they'll notice immediately."
"Ah..."
And here I thought I'd come up with some exploitable loophole. Turns out those old political foxes have already thought of everything.
"The purpose of this is not for you to 'attack', Atur," Ken explained, his gray eyes flashing. "Don't forget the most important philosophy of the Water God Style: you train to defend. And when the time is right, that's when you 'counterattack'."
I suddenly shivered.
But then it turned into a smile.
"Understood."
I had a goal. Now the path was also clearly laid out.
All that was left was to walk it.
And from then on, my mouth started working non-stop. Since I couldn't leave the house because I wasn't old enough, I just wandered around inside, grabbing any servant or guard I could find and striking up a friendly conversation. I asked about their day, what they ate last night, if there was any happy news in their families. Everyone thought I was just a cute, affable child and didn't hesitate to talk and express their emotions (usually happy ones) with me. Before long, I earned the nickname 'the ever-smiling young lord'.
Yet for some reason, my actions rubbed Pilemon the wrong way. He didn't show it outwardly, but the feeling of discomfort whenever I was near or passed by the man now seemed to have reached a new level. Sometimes I think he just wants me to drop dead.
It's strange when you think about it. If he really wanted me dead, wouldn't it be easy? Just have some knight come and strangle me. I'm still just a boy of over four years old, after all.
And then there's what Ken often says. Things like 'that's not a normal kind of hatred'. I don't understand. Perhaps one day, when I've mastered 'Reading', I'll understand the man I'm supposed to call 'father' better. Even though I don't want to believe it, sometimes I hope he has some kind of hidden sorrow. The kind of scenario I've often seen where a family member has to act unfairly to force a child to become stronger.
If that's really the case, I swear I won't be like those protagonists; I'll still punch him in the face.
But back to the important matter.
It seems my 5th birthday party has been confirmed. It won't just be a small party; Pilemon has announced (indirectly through his servant, of course, not bothering to speak to me directly) that many great nobles and their children will be in attendance. In other words, it's a proper 'debut' party befitting a child of a great noble house. And to put it more clearly, Pilemon seems to have acknowledged me as his son, ready to bring me into the light with the full name Atur Notos Greyrat.
I feel a little happy, but also pressured to the point of breathlessness. Because since that announcement was made, I've lost a good eight hours every day to learning the most proper etiquette. Now, every action, every word of mine is corrected to be precise, not a single millimeter off. The way I smile, the way I look, even the way I walk is being trained.
In short, it's a pain.
But the biggest pain is probably dancing. I can't stand this subject. Mia tried to make me learn it in the past, but I always avoided it because, as I said, I hate things that are designed to win over women.
And yet, I couldn't escape it.
But that doesn't mean I can't learn it. Quite the contrary, to my chagrin, I'm quite good at dancing. So good that my instructor said I would surely make many girls swoon. I wanted to puff out my chest with pride, but I could only manage a strained smile.
I wish I could trade some of this useless talent for more mana.
Just like that, half a year passed, and it was now midsummer.
I had made considerable progress in both magic and swordsmanship.
In magic, I can now cast wind magic without using a magic circle (though I still need the incantation).
And most importantly, I've been able to start creating magic tools.
"Hehe! The first automatic fan of the other world is born!"
That hollowed-out piece of wood is an automatic fan. Just like on Earth, it will blow wind from the magic circle I carved inside and push cool air out of the hole to create a breeze.
That's the theory.
But I made a mistake. I put the spot to channel mana behind the 'fan hole'. So for this thing to work, the person channeling mana into it will definitely not feel a single bit of the breeze.
I want to find a hole to crawl into. But since the only hole here is the fan hole, I stuck my head in it.
"So humiliating!" I shouted into it, letting the echo bounce back. I was punishing myself and wanted this memory to be forever etched in my mind.
Actually, I did find another way to activate the fan. That is through mana stones, a type of stone containing mana that can be mined in dungeons or from the remains of magical beasts. If you place it in the magic tool's mana reception spot, the thing will operate without the user needing to continuously channel mana.
Like a battery, quite convenient.
The only problem is that this 'battery' is horrendously expensive. A single small, low-grade one costs 5 silver coins - more than half of advanced-rank knight Ken's monthly salary. Terrifying!
And that's not even mentioning the high-grade or masterpiece ones. I heard there are types worth a whole fortune, and they are often crafted into extremely powerful magic tools, like a magic staff that can amplify the mana it receives, for example. That thing is enough to buy an entire house in a large city, maybe even with enough money left over to buy a garden big enough to raise cows. That's how expensive it is! But with those treasures, a mage's power would soar, and they could even cast spells with less mana.
In short, for a useless person like me, I need to get geared up.
But aside from that, I also learned some pretty interesting things about magic. It seems that chantless casting isn't innate; I just need to 'imagine' the feeling of it.
It's a bit abstract, but after many trials and errors, I gradually grasped the principle. Usually, you just need to cast the spell with the incantation to experience the feeling of casting it. Later, I just need to remember that feeling and imagine it when channeling mana. I tried it with a few other low-level water magic spells, and it worked.
Well, that is, if I didn't collapse unconscious after trying the magic for the first time.
And speaking of mana. After a period of training to death and back, I can now cast more water balls. I can now shoot twenty balls before passing out for a nap. Impressive, huh?
Although this is still nothing compared to real mages, the fact that I've improved throughout my training has given me some confidence. At this rate, I might reach the Intermediate or borderline Advanced rank by the time I'm 10. That's enough to make a decent living as an adventurer mage, hehe. Then who knows, one day I might reach Saint-rank, then King-rank, and become a great mage with a salary measured in gold coins, hehehehe.
But let's focus on the important matter at hand. I started to take out a pen and paper and began to write.
In less than half a year, my fifth birthday will arrive. It seems I have completed all the necessary preparations.
I am a beginner-rank Water God Style swordsman.
In the past few months, Ken has also taught me the North God Style, and I've reached the beginner-rank in that as well.
I have mastered all the rules of noble etiquette.
I dance like a god (though I don't know what good this is for, maybe I'll learn something for my footwork in sword practice?).
I can also read fluently, and have a clear understanding of the geography and history of the great noble houses and the names of each individual.
Also... I started writing poetry.
I never really liked this subject. I'm a man of science and research, after all.
But for some reason, when I started to think about the words, to rhyme them, and then read my works when thinking about Mia, I felt a little less lonely.
It's a pity I couldn't read them to her while she was still alive. She would have laughed in my face and told me this poem was terrible, then pulled me into a hug. The thought of it hurts a little, to the point that a few tears fall onto the paper I'm writing on without me realizing.
But I've made my decision. I will live on and become stronger.
I will write more poems, and each year, I will choose the one I think is the best to give to her.
Goodbye, Mia.
But I will never forget you. And this is the first poem I've written for you.