There he was — a tiny blond-haired boy with golden eyes and pearl-white skin — abusing his newfound power of crawling, steadily making his way toward the library. The maid, Camilla, followed close behind.
"Young Master Roland, you've become so good at crawling! I wonder when you'll be able to walk. I bet it'll take you less than a month, considering your father and how strong of a man he is. And your mother… well, she's of one of the most powerful races, the Phoenix," Camilla said, squealing with happiness.
Roland's eyes narrowed in disbelief Phoenix? Is Camilla tripping? What is this, some kind of fantasy…?! Fantasy? Y-yeah, I probably am in one, aren't I? I mean, I don't even recognize this language from Earth. So yeah, it's probably a different world — and not just the past. But if that's true this world might have more unimaginable... things. I can't even find better words.
He sighed audibly not still fully acknowledging Camillas words.
But I can't be hasty. I'm heading to the library right now; soon, I'll probably learn more about this world.
Roland was scooped up by Camilla as she opened the doors to the library and carried him to a shelf stacked with books best suited for teaching the alphabet, as well as several children's stories.
""I know you're still little, but with Phoenix blood in your veins, your mind should bloom faster than other children's. Maybe you can start mimicking the alphabet already. After all, you always respond to my words." Camilla said, though her voice carried a hint of doubt.
I could do more than just mimic the alphabet, but hey — I'd rather not get caught. At least for now, I get to learn the ALPHABET. HEHEHE.
Bonk.
"Waaaah!"
Ah, crap, I hit my head… this damned infant body can't even crawl properly.
"Young Master Roland, are you okay? Aww, you hit your head, didn't you? I shouldn't have put you back on the ground — it seems you're tired. Off to bed you go."
…I do feel pretty tired. Guess I should sleep. Damned infantile body.
Six uneventful months passed by. Roland eventually learned how to walk, say a couple of words, and secretly practice reading — though most of his life was still that of a baby. He didn't spend much time with his parents, but whenever he did, they showered him with hugs and kisses.
One thing was clear: this world had magic. And not just magic — mythical creatures as well. Camilla, noticing Roland's love for books, would bring him more to flip through, never suspecting that he could actually read them.
Finally, his birthday arrived. When Roland awoke, instead of Camilla's familiar face, he saw a woman whose beauty could kill a man. Her long jet-black hair framed golden eyes, and her black dress shimmered faintly under the light.
Queen Charlotte.
"Did I wake you, sweetie? Sorry about that. But happy birthday — you've finally turned one! Yaaay!"
"Mamaaaa."
Charlotte beamed, scooping Roland up and planting a kiss on his cheek.
"Let's get you dressed. It's finally time to meet your siblings."
"I… meet brader and shishders?"
"Yes, you will! Also, I'm so proud of you! Nearly none of your siblings could form sentences at your age. You make Mama really proud, Roland."
"Yay. Mama proud!"
I feel like an imbecile talking like this, but what can I do?
Charlotte carried Roland into the dressing room, where he was fitted into a silk black t-shirt, matching pants, and tiny matte-black shoes. Though it was August 16th and warm outside, the castle's thick stone walls kept the interior cool. Rare pieces of art and elegant statues decorated the halls as Charlotte walked slowly, purposefully, carrying Roland in her arms.
Eventually, they reached a massive door — nearly four meters tall and two wide — guarded on both sides by armored sentries. The guards bowed their heads as Charlotte approached and pulled the door open.
Inside, the hall was filled with nobles dressed in their finest attire. At the sight of Charlotte and Roland, everyone bowed their heads. Together, mother and child made their way down the red carpet toward the king — and the four figures Roland could only assume were his siblings.
The king sat on a dark wooden throne, its cushions the same color as his eyes. To his furthest left stood a boy of twelve with black hair and brown eyes. Next to him was a girl of just three—the daughter of a concubine, or so Roland had been told yesterday.
***
"Camilla, what's a concubine?"
"Uh… the king's wife?"
"But Mama is Dada's wife!"
"Ah shit, how do I explain that…" Camilla murmured under her breath
"Shit? Shit!"
"No, no, no, don't say that! That's a no-no word!"
Don't laugh, don't laugh… if I laugh she'll know…
Mmmpf… I really shouldn't laugh.
"Ehehehehe."
"Making fun of me, are we, Roland?"
***
To the king's right stood another child: blond hair, green eyes—the spitting image of his father—at eight years old. Beside him was a girl with pure black hair and golden eyes. She was ten, and the way the hall reacted to her was obvious. Servants bowed deeper, nobles stood straighter.
Roland thought: So that's the famous one, huh.
Her gaze locked onto his and didn't waver once. Fire burned in her stare, and everyone seemed to sense it.
"Hello, Roland, it is very nice to meet you. I am the oldest, Loki Ketsra," the blond boy said, bowing slightly.
"Welcome, Roland. My name is Cora, the eldest daughter of House Ketsra." She still didn't look away, and Roland refused too either.
"Good morning, Brother Roland. I am pleased to meet you, and to hear that you have begun speaking." The younger boy smirked at Cora before bowing his head. "My name is Cid Ketsra."
"H-Hello, young master Roland. M-my name is Natalie. It is a great pleasure to meet you. I have heard of how you began speaking and I am most p-proud. I wish you all the best in your, um… y-your endeavors." She said as if she had memorized a script before not a single emotion in her words.
"It'sh nishe to meet you, Loqi, Qora, Shid, and Natalie," Roland lisped.
Charlotte, the queen, sat next to the king in a throne nearly identical to his, except its cushions glowed the color of flame.
"We are gathered here today," Arthur, the king, announced, "to commemorate the birthday of my youngest son, Roland." The crowd erupted into applause so loud, Roland winced slightly.
"Before we begin the feast, I wish to say a few words. Roland is my second child to take in so much of the Phoenix Blood."
Phoenix this, Phoenix that. What even is my power? Quick mind adaptation or whatever, sure, but what else?
"As you know, Roland has already begun speaking. For most of my children, I did not host such a ceremony on their first birthday. Only for Cora. And now, by fortune, this day repeats itself." His voice grew louder. "It is time to grant Roland his royal blessing!"
The hall erupted into cheers.
Ah yes, yes, the—WAIT, WHAT THE FUCK NOW?
"Now this may seem cruel to you most of you," Arthur continued, "but we must take a bit of his blood."
No thanks, I'm good, Dad. I don't want no blood taken from me.
The butler, Garret, walked forward with a golden bowl filled with holy water. Queen Charlotte carried Roland to it.
Arthur raised his hands.
"Oh, great god! Another of my children has been born, and he has begun to speak. I stand before you not as king, but as father. Grant him your divine blessing. Lend him a spark of your power, that it may guide him in the future—whether for the empire or against it, whether for good or for evil, whether for the people or for the land."
From the water, a dagger rose. Plain wooden handle, rusty blade. And yet the air shifted when it appeared, a suffocating aura pouring from it. Nobles in the back broke into cold sweat, some panicked, others even foamed at the mouth. A few among the royal family paled.
Arthur reached for the dagger and gripped it firmly. Without hesitation, he turned—
—and with a single motion, the king cut the baby's wrist.