Siegfried Fors
The world spun violently, pain erupting in my right shoulder as I crashed to the ground. I groaned, trying to catch my breath. Before I could even scramble to my feet, another blow struck me, sending me whirling once more.
"My arm! My precious left arm!" I shouted, my voice cracking with pain.
Zayn chuckled, a low, amused rumble that sent shivers down my spine. "Stop being so dramatic," his voice was casual as he leaned against a nearby tree. "I didn't even hit you that hard."
I sat up, clutching my aching arm. "Not that hard?" I retorted, my voice laced with disbelief. "You sent me flying across the clearing!"
Zayn shrugged. "It's not my fault." His gaze swept the clearing like a lazy predator. "You just can't seem to hold your ground."
He looked up at the sky, which was now ablaze with the fiery hues of sunset. "Let's end today's session," he announced, sheathing his sword in the magical pouch.
I fell back onto the soft forest floor, exhausted, bruised, and covered in dirt. It had been ten days since Zayn had started taking me into this clearing for our daily training sessions. My days now consisted of intense studying with Granny in the morning, followed by these grueling training sessions with Zayn that left me feeling more battered than a seasoned warrior. And yet, despite all this, there was no sign of my "awakening."
Zayn picked me up effortlessly, as if I weighed no more than a feather. "Let's go," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle.
I would have normally protested being carried like a helpless child, but my body ached in protest, every muscle screaming in agony. So, I simply closed my eyes and accepted it.
I felt Zayn take off from the ground; this had become a daily ritual, a strange and exhilarating experience. From what I'd heard, flying was considered quite an amazing feat, a testament to one's mastery over their body and their connection to the world. Apparently, my mother could also fly, a fact that filled me with a newfound respect for her. She seemed even more capable than I had previously imagined.
"We are here."
I opened my eyes to find ourselves hovering just above the ground, the familiar facade of the manor coming into view. Zayn landed with a practiced grace, gently setting me down on the soft grass.
Holding Zayn's hand, I walked towards the house, the maids bowing respectfully as we passed.
"Go and clean yourself up," Zayn gave my shoulder a reassuring pat before turning to leave.
I nodded and made my way towards the bathroom. I had gotten used to looking at the world from a single eye, my vision slightly blurred, but I had adapted. At first, I bumped into things constantly, my clumsy attempts to navigate the world a source of endless amusement for Zayn. But I had eventually learned to compensate, to rely more on my other senses.
As I opened the door to the bathroom, a familiar face greeted me.
"Emma?" I asked, surprised to see only her. Normally, there would be at least three maids waiting to assist me.
She bowed. "Welcome back, young lord."
"You are alone?" I asked, glancing around the empty room. "Where is everyone?"
"Everyone else is busy helping with the preparations for the Harvest Festival," Emma explained. "We are only a week away, after all."
Ah, the Harvest Festival. Going by the name, one would think it was simply a celebration that marked the end of the growing season and the gathering of crops. But for our state, it was something far more significant: it was the anniversary of the founding of our barony, our sixty-ninth anniversary to be exact.
Another unique aspect of this world's Harvest Festival was the tradition of giving offerings to Aethelhum, the cosmic tree, thanking it for the bountiful harvest and the life it sustained. Everyone seemed to be caught up in the excitement of the upcoming celebrations.
"Young lord." I look back at Emma. "May I?"
I had given up on this whole bathing ordeal. I just closed my eyes and focused on the most embarrassing moments of my life.
It's not my fault. It really isn't.
Getting bathed by a beautiful girl like Emma, her hands moving with gentle precision, the comforting scent of flowers lingering in the air, how is a man supposed to remain unaffected?
I swallow hard, keeping my face impassive, my breathing even. No reaction. No weakness. Just endure.
"Go ahead," I mumbled, my voice barely audible.
As Emma began to wash me, I closed my eyes, trying to distract myself from the inevitable awkwardness of the situation. I thought about my training with Zayn, each of his movements a blur of motion, each of his attacks a lesson learned. I couldn't see him move, not until the very last second, his strikes seemingly appearing out of thin air. He claimed he wasn't using magic, but I had my doubts.
I looked over my shoulder, catching Emma mid-wash. "Emma," I asked, "can you use magic?"
She paused, a slight blush creeping up her neck as she looked at me. "Magic? I can do mana manipulation and use basic spells."
"That means you are awakened?" I asked, my eyes widening.
Emma nodded. "I am. I awakened when I was thirteen. It was… embarrassing, to be honest. I was working in the kitchen, and I accidentally shattered a plate. I thought I was going to be fired and I was really scared, but instead…" she trailed off, a faint smile touching her lips. "Instead, I awakened."
"Wait!" I exclaimed, disbelief coloring my voice. "Awakening… just like that?"
Emma tilted her head, looking confused. "Is that not normal? I've heard other people's stories. A friend of mine awakened after she fell off the stairs. Another person I know awakened while worrying about their sick mother. From what I've heard, it can happen anytime, under the most unexpected circumstances."
"What's with those stories? Is awakening really that easy? Could it be... could it be that I can't awaken? That I can't form a Soul's Crucible because I'm... not from this world?" The thought hit me with the force of a physical blow. Disappointment washed over me. "This isn't fair; I wanted to use magic too."
Emma continued washing, her tender touch sending a tingle throughout my body. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something, her sleeves clung to her arms, the fabric of her uniform damp and sticking to her skin.
She was getting soaked.
Does she have another uniform to change into? If not, she'd have to walk around in wet clothes after this.
"You should take off your clothes."
The words left my mouth before I fully thought them through.
The sound of water sloshing stopped. Her hands froze mid-motion.
I turned slightly, catching a glimpse of her face. Her cheeks were a bright, fiery red, eyes wide in pure shock.
"W-what…?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
It took me a few agonizing seconds to process what I had just said.
Heat rushed to my own face. "I, I meant your uniform! Your clothes are getting wet! I just didn't want you to be uncomfortable!"
Emma blinked, her expression flickering with flustered confusion before it softened. Then, slowly, a small, shy smile formed on her lips.
"R-right… As you say." Her voice wavered slightly, and she looked away, her cheeks still burning.
The rest of the bath was an agonizing silence, thick with unspoken words and lingering embarrassment. Neither of us dared to break it. The only sounds were the gentle ripples of water and the occasional quiet splash as she resumed washing, though her movements were noticeably more hesitant now.
By the time it was over, I dressed as quickly as humanly possible, barely sparing Emma a glance.
And then, before she could say anything, I bolted.
As I ran through the hallway, my mind still clouded with lingering embarrassment, I rounded a corner, only to slam straight into something solid.
Or rather, someone.
A large, unmovable force.
"Ouch…" I groaned, rubbing my nose as I stumbled back.
A deep, familiar voice rumbled above me. "Sieg. Did I hurt you? I'm sorry."
I blinked up to see a towering figure looking down at me, Grandpa. His warm, weathered face was filled with concern.
I shook my head quickly, trying to mask my embarrassment. "No, it's my fault for running like that. Sorry," I said, doing my best to sound as childish as possible.
Grandpa let out a hearty laugh, his deep voice echoing through the hallway. "Hah! You remind me of your mother and uncle when they were your age, always running into trouble." He reached out, ruffling my already messy hair. "Come here, my boy."
Before I could react, he effortlessly lifted me into the air and settled me on his broad shoulders. From up here, everything looked smaller, less overwhelming.
"Let's not keep your granny and the others waiting," he said, his voice warm and reassuring.
As we moved through the hallway, the servants we passed smiled and bowed. Their expressions held no stiffness, only genuine fondness.
When we finally arrived at the dining hall, the glow of lamps illuminated a long, beautifully set table. My mother, Granny, and Zayn were already seated, their faces lighting up as we entered.
"They're finally here!" My mother perked up, straightening from her slightly slumped posture. "Let's eat now."
Dinner was unlike anything from my previous life, where silent meals and empty chairs had been my only company. Here, the table was alive with laughter, warmth, and the rich aroma of a feast prepared with care.
Granny spoke about merchants requesting permission to set up stalls in the town square.
Mother, eyes gleaming, eagerly chimed in, already excited about all the delicious foods the festival would bring.
Grandpa, ever the proud patriarch, boasted that this year's harvest was the best it had ever been.
Zayn, his usual calm demeanor slightly softened, smiled as he explained how the harvest festival was one of the reasons he always visited this time of year, to continue my lessons.
I listened, my heart swelling with something unfamiliar yet comforting.
For the first time in a long while, my heart felt full.
After dinner, I was supposed to go to bed, at least, that's what everyone thought.
But I had other plans.
I cracked the door open, peeking left and right down the dimly lit hallway. The house was silent, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the glass windows. Satisfied that no one was around, I slipped out, moving swiftly and silently toward the library.
Lately, my training with Zayn had consumed all my time, leaving me with no chance to read. Tonight, I would fix that.
Reaching the grand double doors of the library, I pushed one open just enough to slip inside. I moved between the towering shelves, my fingers trailing along the spines of countless books until I found what I needed.
"Geography of Aethelgia, Volume 3" and "Ways to Master Magic." These should do for now.
Books in hand, I made my way back to my room, and then I heard something.
A noise.
Faint, muffled sounds carried through the corridor. My brows furrowed as I followed the source, my feet moving on their own. It was coming from my mother's room.
I hesitated, curiosity getting the better of me.
Then, I heard it.
"Ngh…"
I froze. My mother's voice. A strained, breathy moan. Was she exercising? Or...
No… It couldn't be.
Before I could even process it, another voice followed.
"How is it?"
Zayn's voice.
I felt something cold drop into the pit of my stomach.
What the hell?
The sounds only grew louder. More unmistakable. My mind reeled, torn between denial and the obvious truth of what was happening behind that door.
Heat rushed to my face as I spun on my heels and bolted back to my room, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. I barely noticed how fast I was moving, only stopping once I slammed the door shut behind me.
I tossed the books onto the table, running a hand through my hair as I exhaled sharply.
"How… how am I even supposed to feel about this?"
Zayn and my mother…?
I swallowed, trying to sort through the tangle of emotions swirling inside me. Shock. Embarrassment. Confusion.
She was an adult, free to do whatever she wanted. I knew that. But still…
In the first place, I didn't even know who my father was. That question always lingered in the back of my mind, an empty space no one ever spoke of. I wanted to ask about it, but if the reason 'Siegfried' doesn't have a father is something sad, I didn't want to stir up bad memories. And now, to stumble upon this?
I exhaled sharply and ran a hand through my hair.
"Just forget it."
It wasn't like I could do anything about it. But still… I needed to have a talk with Zayn. A stern talk. Tomorrow.
Yeah. That's what I'd do.
With a sigh, I threw myself onto the bed, yanking the blanket over my head.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"You look sleepy. Did you not get any rest?" Granny asked, her voice laced with concern as she led me through the bustling town streets.
I stifled a yawn and rubbed my eyes. "I'm fine."
"Want me to carry you?"
I shot a sharp glare at Zayn, who was walking beside us with that ever-present, infuriating smile.
"It's your fault, bloody bastard."
He simply raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by my reaction.
"Hmph." I turned away, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
Sleep had eluded me last night. My mind had been a relentless storm, replaying the events over and over, drowning me in thoughts I didn't want to entertain. And yet, the moment my eyes finally closed, morning had arrived in the blink of an eye.
Granny had pulled me out of bed early, dragging me along to handle business in town. Apparently, a group of merchants had arrived for the Harvest Festival, seeking permission to set up their stalls. Grandfather had entrusted the decision to Granny, and so here we were. Zayn had come along, just in case.
The town was alive with anticipation. Decorations were starting to line the streets, vibrant banners, strings of flowers, and wooden signs freshly painted with festival announcements. Vendors bustled about, arranging their goods, their laughter and chatter blending into the hum of excitement. Children darted past, their eyes wide with joy as they peeked at the preparations.
Everyone was giving their all.
We arrived at a merchant's cart, where a man stood waiting.
"Lady Elara, I apologize that you had to come all this way," the merchant said, bowing respectfully.
"It's quite alright," Granny replied with a small smile. "I had other business in town anyway."
The merchant, probably in his thirties, of average height and build, had dark brown hair that fell messily over his forehead. His clothes were practical but well-maintained, suggesting he wasn't struggling, but neither was he wealthy.
He gestured toward his cart, pulling back the heavy fabric covering it. "Please, have a look."
Inside, stacks of kitchen utensils, pots, and assorted cookware gleamed under the morning light. Copper, brass, and iron reflected the sun in dull glows, while wooden ladles and cutting boards lay neatly arranged.
I stared at the wares, my excitement dropping with every second.
Pots and pans…?
I had dragged myself out of bed for this?
Suppressing a sigh, I let my gaze wander, already losing interest.
"Lord Sieg."
A child's voice rang out, clear and cheerful, cutting through the morning bustle of the town.
I turned toward the sound, my sleepy eyes widening in surprise, almost popping out of my head.
Standing a little farther from us was a woman of breathtaking beauty, her long, dark reddish-hair cascading down her back in soft waves. Her lavender eyes held a warmth that contrasted with her otherworldly features: big, delicate horns protruding from her head and long ears that twitched slightly. She was… undeniably curvaceous, her figure accentuated by the simple yet well-fitted dress she wore.
Alina. A demi-human cow woman. She owns a tavern and runs a small dairy business, often delivering her fresh milk to the manor.
But before I could fully process her presence, my gaze drifted downward, to the little girl at her side.
Erina. Her daughter. Unlike her mother's red hair, Erina's was dark brown, so deep in shade that from a distance, it almost looked black. Her small horns were just beginning to grow, barely noticeable beneath her hair.
She smiled brightly, her lavender eyes sparkling as she let go of her mother's hand and dashed toward me.
"Lord Sieg! It's been such a long time!"
She beamed up at me, bouncing on her feet with excitement.
"Yes, it has," I replied, a small smile tugging at my lips.
Alina used to deliver milk to the mansion frequently, and back then, Erina and I or... Siegfried had spent a lot of time together. We would play for hours, running through the gardens and exploring the estate grounds. But ever since she started school, our meetings had become few and far between.
"Erina, be respectful to the young lord," Alina gently reprimanded, walking toward us with a graceful step.
She turned her attention to Granny and Zayn, bowing slightly as she spoke.
"Good morning, Lord Siegfried, Lady Elara, Sir Zayn."
She guided Erina hand-in-hand, prompting the little girl to mimic the bow.
Zayn, who had been lazily leaning against a wall, simply gave a nod in acknowledgment.
Granny, however, smiled. "Morning, Alina. Out shopping, I assume?"
"Yes," Alina replied with a light chuckle. "With the Harvest Festival approaching, the number of customers will be increasing. I need to stock up before the real rush begins."
"Good, good," Granny said approvingly.
Then, she turned her gaze toward Erina.
"By the way, young lady, shouldn't you be in school right now?"
Erina puffed out her chest proudly. "The holidays started for the Harvest Festival!" she announced, practically bouncing on her feet.
Before I could react, she suddenly grabbed my hand.
"Lord Sieg, let's go play!"
I blinked in surprise.
But before I could say anything, Alina's voice cut in sharply.
"Erina!"
Her tone was firm, but not unkind, more of a mother's gentle warning than true scolding.
"But…" Erina stammered, her small hands clutching the fabric of her dress. Her lavender eyes shimmered with disappointment as she looked up at her mother.
Seeing her expression, I turned toward Granny.
"Granny, can I go?"
She arched an eyebrow. "But don't you have training with Zayn?"
At that, she turned to Zayn, who merely shrugged.
"A day's rest won't hurt anyone," he said nonchalantly, glancing at me with a knowing smirk. "Just go."
I turned back to Granny, waiting for her final say.
She sighed but gave a small, indulgent smile. "Just remember our rules."
"I will," I nodded firmly.
"Yay!" Erina's face lit up instantly, and she jumped with excitement.
Before I could react, she grabbed my hand and started tugging me forward.
"Let's go, Lord Sieg!"
Her grip was surprisingly strong for her size as she pulled me through the busy town streets, weaving past merchants and townsfolk preparing for the festival. The air buzzed with excitement, the scent of freshly baked bread and spices filling my nose as we passed by food stalls.
"Where are we going?" I asked, trying to match her energy.
She came to an abrupt stop, tapping her chin in thought.
"To the park!"
I tilted my head.
"Aren't they setting up the festival stage there?"
"Ah!" Her eyes widened in realization. "I forgot!"
She pouted for a moment, then perked up.
"Then… to the mansion!"
I hesitated. "The soldiers are practicing for the parade today."
Her excitement instantly deflated. She slumped, looking genuinely dejected.
"It's been so long since we met, and now there's no place to play," she mumbled, kicking at the dirt with her foot.
Looking at her small, downcast figure, I couldn't help myself. I reached out and gently patted her head.
She blinked, looking up at me in surprise.
"How about your place?" I suggested.
"Eh?" Her ears twitched, and her tail, which had been still until now, gave a sudden sway. "You'll come?"
I nodded.
Her face broke into the brightest smile I had seen all morning.
"I'll show you the way!" she declared, her energy returning tenfold as she eagerly took the lead.
It took us a few minutes to reach the tavern. The front was bustling with life, customers chatting over drinks, the clinking of mugs, and the rich aroma of roasted meat and freshly baked bread filling the air. But Erina didn't stop there. Instead, she tugged me toward the back entrance, away from the noise.
"My room is on the upper floor," she said, looking back at me with a small, excited smile.
I simply nodded, following her up the narrow wooden staircase. The creaking steps echoed softly as we climbed, and to my surprise, we didn't run into anyone along the way. It seemed like her father was busy with work downstairs.
Erina stopped in front of a door and pushed it open.
"This is my room!"
I stepped inside and took a quick glance around. Compared to my room in the manor, it was small, but it had a cozy charm. A single-person bed with a neatly folded blanket sat against the wall, an old but sturdy wooden almirah stood in the corner, and next to it was a small wooden box filled with toys. The room was filled with a sweet smell, probably from the flowers placed by the window.
Erina wasted no time. She rushed to the toy box, rummaging through it before pulling out a small doll.
"Let's play family-family!" she declared enthusiastically. "I'll be the mom, Lord Sieg will be the papa, and Gina will be our daughter!"
She held up the doll, Gina, I assumed, and then excitedly pulled out small wooden cups, plates, and other playthings, setting them up as if preparing for an imaginary dinner.
As she busied herself arranging the toys, my eyes drifted to something else in the box.
For a moment, my heart pounded in my chest.
"Erina, can I get some water?" I asked casually.
"Here!" She smiled and handed me a small wooden cup from her toy set.
I blinked at it, staring for a few seconds before realizing I hadn't been clear.
"I meant actual water," I clarified.
"Ah, okay!" She jumped to her feet and hurried to the door. "Please wait a little!"
The moment she was gone, I took a deep breath and moved toward the toy box. Slowly, I reached in and pulled out a small hand mirror. My hands felt strangely heavy as I held it up, my heartbeat quickening.
"Here goes nothing."
I inhaled deeply and looked into the reflection.
"Damn." I was taken aback for a moment. My facial features were absurdly refined, sharp yet delicate, like a prince out of a fairy tale. If I had to be honest, I knew this face was going to be a total lady-killer when I grew up. My hair was a silver-white shade of blonde, shining even in the dim light of the room. My left eye was a striking azure blue, different from my mother's sapphire shade.
But then came the real moment of truth.
With a slow, almost hesitant hand, I reached up and lifted my eyepatch.
The moment the fabric left my skin, light flooded my vision, sharp and blinding. I blinked rapidly, my right eye struggling to adjust to the sudden brightness. And then,
I froze.
A sharp breath caught in my throat.
Staring back at me in the mirror was an emerald-green iris, vivid and piercing. But that wasn't what made my blood run cold.
It was my pupil.
Pure white. A stark, unnatural contrast against the green.
My fingers trembled as I lowered the mirror slightly, my heart hammering in my chest. My breathing quickened, shallow and unsteady.
A shiver crept down my spine, the weight of an unknown truth pressing against me like an invisible force.
"This wasn't normal."
"This wasn't right."
My grip on the mirror tightened, knuckles whitening. A strange, uneasy feeling coiled in my stomach, an instinctual dread I couldn't explain.
I swallowed hard. My voice, when it finally came out, was barely more than a whisper.
"Just… what is this?"