**Tidesport Docks, Imperial Capital, Wallace Empire**
Earl Edward, having embarked on his third expedition to the southern seas, was finally returning to the capital today after three long years. The docks were teeming with citizens eager to welcome the returning fleet. Suddenly, a cheer erupted from the crowd as a distant sail appeared on the horizon.
The Werner, with its gleaming black hull, slowly approached the dock. As it neared, its enormous size became apparent, resembling a sea monster. The expedition's flag, adorned with a majestic sperm whale, flapped fiercely in the wind, exuding an overwhelming aura of power.
The Empire's ventures into the southern seas were more akin to plundering than exploration. The southern waters were dotted with countless islands rich in resources—gold, gems, spices, and various seafood. However, the local inhabitants were primitive, still living in tribal conditions.
Decades ago, Emperor Nicholas the Great, having reaped immense rewards from the first expedition, sent fleet after fleet on successive "explorations." Earl Edward saw nothing wrong with this. Three years ago, just as his wife finally became pregnant with their first child at the age of thirty, he was ordered to embark on another expedition. Consequently, he hadn't seen his child and didn't even know if it was a boy or a girl.
Standing on the deck in his splendid armor, Earl Edward gazed expressionlessly at the jubilant crowd. He was accustomed to such triumphant returns and was more eager to finish quickly and return home to his wife and the child he had never met.
Amidst the enthusiastic applause, the Earl gracefully disembarked and waved to the crowd, but his gestures were perfunctory, as if swatting away flies. After the court official finished reading the Emperor's lengthy commendation, Earl Edward hurried back to his estate. Upon entering, he learned that his wife had given birth to a son. Yet, before he could fully embrace the joy and happiness, a bucket of cold water doused his spirits—the son was a simpleton.
The Earl's eldest son, Freyr Russell, was a child whom no one would have predicted would be labeled a "simpleton" at birth. Initially, he was the cherished little sun of the Russell family.
Three years ago, Freyr made a remarkably calm entrance into the world, stunning the attending maids. He didn't cry or fuss, adhering to a schedule more regular than a working man's—waking, eating, and sleeping at fixed times, with the rest of his time spent in a daze. Sometimes he stared at the ornate ceiling, other times out the window, often furrowing his brow as if deep in thought.
This pensive little baby rarely wet his bed. Instead, he would ring the servant's bell at the edge of his cradle, prompting the maids to swiftly place him on the chamber pot. This "genius" behavior astonished everyone.
Unfortunately, the "genius" aura dissipated within a year—because he didn't speak or make any sounds at all. Even when he fell, he merely frowned and didn't cry out in pain.
While other children his age were babbling, Freyr's mouth seemed glued shut. No matter how much the Countess tried to teach him, he refused to utter a word. Even mute children could hum, but Freyr remained as quiet as a rabbit, relying solely on the bell to express his needs, whether he was cold, hot, hungry, or in a hurry.
By the time he turned three, the young master still hadn't spoken a single word. The Countess had consulted numerous doctors and great wizards, but none could help. Finally, even the ever-optimistic Countess had to sigh and accept the harsh reality—her son was a "simpleton."
Fortunately, by the time he was three, young Freyr had finally learned to walk. Though he stumbled and wobbled, at least his development seemed on track. Yet, for a child who neither cried, laughed, nor spoke, and spent his days in a daze, "simpleton" seemed the most fitting description.
Even more bizarrely, a month ago, an unexpected thunderstorm turned the Earl's estate into a dramatic scene. Seizing a moment when the servants were distracted, young Freyr sneaked into the yard. Facing the lightning and thunder, he showed no fear. Perhaps he was too simple to be afraid. With tiny fists raised, he roared furiously at the sky, uttering a string of sounds no one could comprehend—if they were even words at all!
For a child who had hardly made a sound in three years, Freyr's wild screams in the rain were both shocking and bewildering. His angry cries, though still in a babyish voice, quickly turned to shivers as he became drenched. By the time he was found, he was soaked, shivering uncontrollably, his face pale and lips purple, nearly hypothermic and unconscious.
The Countess, upon seeing her son in this state, fainted on the spot, collapsing faster than Freyr.
After a flurry of activity, the servants carried the mother and son back to their rooms. Once the Countess regained consciousness, she wept bitterly as she held her son. Doctors and wizards took turns tending to Freyr, and even a priestess of the Goddess was summoned to bestow her blessings.
The Countess knelt devoutly before the statue of the Goddess all night, praying for her son's safety. Everyone held their breath through the night, and finally, Freyr's body warmed, his life spared, though he remained in a coma.
The Countess, nearly sleepless and without eating, kept vigil at his bedside.
Two days later, Freyr muttered in his sleep, uttering a few indistinct syllables.
A maid leaned in carefully to listen. After a moment, she hesitantly reported to the Countess, "My Lady, Master Freyr seems to be saying… seems to be saying 'fuck...'"
The kind-hearted Countess believed that words spoken in dreams might be divine messages. Pondering for a moment, she asked the butler, "Do we have a servant named Focker?"
This question puzzled the loyal old butler. After a thorough search, he finally found a stable boy named Focker.
Believing this was a sign from the Goddess, the Countess promoted Focker to take care of young Freyr.
Focker was overjoyed. From being the lowest stable boy, he suddenly became a personal attendant to the young master. He didn't understand why he was suddenly favored by the Countess, but that didn't matter. Simple-minded as he was, Focker was genuinely excited about his good fortune.
As for Freyr, he had no idea that a storm and a few utterances of "fuck" had inadvertently changed someone's fate.
After a month in bed, Freyr finally recovered, his pale face regaining a hint of color. He remained mostly silent, but upon hearing of his mother's sleepless, devout vigil for him, his beautiful eyes showed a newfound, barely perceptible tenderness when he looked at her.