As the arcane device attempted to drain the essence of mana from within me, a peculiar force pressed against my fragile hand. Yet, to my relief, the mana remained stubbornly locked within my being, refusing to be siphoned away like it did with my other kin.
The instrument's lack of illumination brought forth a surge of gratitude. Thank the gods, my prodigious reservoir of mana would remain concealed from prying eyes. However, Lady Sara, with her haughty smirk, seemingly reveled in the absence of the luminous display. Was she gloating about her son possessing more mana than my esteemed father? I, on the other hand, was bereft of the tiniest shred of it.
Without at least a modicum of mana, I would be relegated to the status of refuse, cast aside like unwanted debris. Thoughts of such a fate raced through my mind, prompting me to permit the flow of mana from my palm into the instrument. Instantly, it ignited with a vibrant yellow glow before I promptly ceased the release of mana.
"Yellow, indicating that the boy possesses mana!" exclaimed Maester Darwin.
"And quite a substantial amount at that," responded Lady Sara, her tone tinged with concern. "
Do you surmise he possesses more mana than Ron?"
"Less than you and Lord Duston, but surpassing the head court magician," Maester Darwin replied with a sense of reverence. "Indeed, it is a divine blessing that two of Lord Duston's sons possess enough mana to transcend the boundaries of the Advance rank."
"My son's talent dwarfs his, but I suppose he will suffice, being a bastard," Sara uttered, a visible sense of relief washing over her features.
"You may depart now, came the dismissal from Lady Sara.
"Yes, my lady," responded my nanny, Camilla, with a respectful bow. She then left the grandeur of the Lord's Hall, cradling me securely within her arms.
As a substantial quantity of mana subtly exited my body within such a brief span of time, a slight dizziness enveloped me. After all, I was merely six months old, and even the mildest weariness had the ability to lull me into slumber.
After the results of my mana measurement test, I unwittingly became the target of envy in the esteemed Lord Duston Castle. The disgruntlement emanated primarily from the other concubines and their offspring, as I was the one being groomed to become a magician—an exceedingly valuable commodity in our world.
It was not due to any sort of affection or favoritism from my father that I was being instructed in the ways of magic. Instead, it was solely because of my vast mana reserve. You see, the amount of mana one possesses is determined by pure chance at the moment of birth. Thus, even the son of a renowned arch mage may find himself lacking in this mystical energy, while a beggar's offspring might possess more mana than the arch mage himself. Therefore, having two sons with substantial mana reserves was an incredibly advantageous circumstance for any noble.
One of us would be trained to fulfill the role of a capable heir, while the other, namely myself, would be groomed to serve obediently—an undeniably desirable position within the castle walls.
However, my aptitude for magic wasn't just a cause for envy; it also served as a protective shield. My value as a prized asset to Lord Duston afforded me a certain level of safeguarding.
After enduring approximately a year of the rather mundane mana measurement tests, Maester Darwin commenced my education in the rudimentary arts of reading and writing. Despite assimilating the common tongue effortlessly, the art of putting pen to paper proved to be as perplexing to me as it would be to a mere babe. With nothing particular to occupy my time, I found solace within the confines of the library, where I would lose myself for hours on end. In the earlier days, I had the company of Camilla, apart from Maester Darwin, but alas, as I advanced from infancy, even her presence was restricted.
As one would expect, the children of my father, who shared the same dubious lineage as myself, were forbidden from fraternizing with me. Lady Duston, in her cruel decree, proclaimed that a bastard born of slaves could not bear any resemblance to her own offspring—those fortunate enough to be born of concubines. Consequently, they, too, shunned my company, or were instructed to do so.
To avoid inciting further discontent or superiority, I feigned struggle in my efforts to grasp the intricacies of reading and writing, even after mastering them. It was a facade I maintained, primarily to prevent surpassing Ron in terms of talent.
Ron, unlike his mother Lady Sara, exhibited a rather virtuous nature. He, too, experienced the isolation from his half-siblings, owing to his higher birthright. Much like myself, he sought refuge within the hallowed halls of the library or diligently learned the art of magic from the court mage, Darris.