a magician's disappointment
DAMN!! How many months or weeks have I been trying to do at least an intermediate level of magic, but what I can really produce is a beginner or an elementary type of magic? Basically, I can do the things that a normal person living here can do! For my age of 6, these are pretty impressive, but what I know from the books is that at the age of 6 or 7, a child that can produce an intermediate level of magic is well known to have an affinity for or a talent for it. Well, I guess I don't have the talent for it. I can produce water and fire now, but I need to cast a spell, and yes, I tried to do it with chartless magic, but I can't do it. and I am still disappointed and disheartened by these failures. My mom suddenly approached me and hugged me.
"Celeste, my daughter, don't be disappointed, ok, there are still plenty of things you can do. You are a smart and bright girl, and just to add to your beauty, too many guys are going to be on your feet when you are your age! Don't worry, your mom will not let you down. I will work hard to give you what you need. Don't be sad.
urghhh mommmmmmm!! I don't want to be married!! Someone, I just want to be with you so we can be together! And what can I do to help you? I want you to stop working in that field. I want us to have our own home when I grow up.
"Wow, that's so sweet of you, celeste, but you don't need to worry about me. Just focus on your dreams, honey. Your mom is strong and young! You don't know, maybe I can find a guy that can take care of both of us!
MOM NO!!! I don't want that!!! I just want the two of us! ok. hmmm
These are pretty much the things that the two of us were talking about when we were together. My mom is a sweet and hardworking woman. Sometimes when she goes to our late, I notice she has bruises on her body but hides them for me. I'm still young. What can I do?? I need to learn something. How about becoming a merchant?? or go to a renowned school here in the capital?? Maybe that's the way that I can achieve my goal here.
I'm 7 years old now, and I've been running around helping with chores here with Mama Rosario. Sometimes I go to the inn near here and help with washing plates there. and I usually talk to a guy that I consider my uncle because my mom treats this guy as his brother, and sometimes he takes care of me too when my mom is working. His name is Tristan, and he's in his late 40s. I heard from my mom that he was a retired knight who used to work in the castle in the capital. But right now he's managing the inn here, but I know he really likes to drink and just go to the bar, so that's why he serves the liquors and beers here.
Chapter 3: The Blade Beckons
The air was brisk as the sun rose over Ereípia, casting long shadows across the brothel's wooden walls. Celeste, now seven, had begun her usual morning routine, helping Mama Rosario with chores and running small errands around the brothel. She didn't mind the work; it kept her busy, and every moment she wasn't studying or practicing magic felt like a step closer to understanding the world she'd been reborn into.
But today, there was an itch a restlessness she couldn't shake. Magic had always fascinated her, but the disappointment of her limitations gnawed at her. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't progress beyond the simplest of spells. And yet, there was something else stirring inside her, something she didn't quite understand.
"Maybe magic isn't the path for me," she muttered as she made her way to the inn where Tristan worked.
As she neared the building, the sounds of clashing steel caught her attention. She paused, her heart quickening as she heard the unmistakable ring of swords being drawn. Celeste turned the corner and saw a man in the courtyard, moving with fluid precision, his blade cutting through the air in arcs of silver. His every strike was controlled, every movement deliberate, as if he danced with the sword rather than wielding it.
It was mesmerizing. The man, tall and broad-shouldered, had a commanding presence. His hair, a streak of silver despite his youthful face, framed a pair of sharp eyes that burned with focus. She watched, entranced, as he performed a series of intricate maneuvers, his sword gleaming in the morning light.
For the first time in a long while, Celeste felt something stir deep within her. It wasn't magic it was something else. Something more primal. Her hands clenched instinctively, her body yearning to hold a sword, to feel its weight and balance.
The man must have sensed her gaze, for he suddenly stopped mid-strike and turned to look at her. His eyes locked onto hers, and for a brief moment, Celeste felt as if he could see right through her. His gaze was intense, but not unkind.
"You there," the man called, his voice deep and commanding. "What's your name?"
Startled, Celeste blinked before straightening herself. "C-Celeste, sir."
The man lowered his sword, resting its tip on the ground as he studied her. "How long have you been watching?"
"Just a few minutes," she admitted. "I've… I've never seen anything like that before."
The man raised an eyebrow. "You've never seen swordsmanship?"
"Not like that," she said, her voice soft but eager. "It's beautiful."
A faint smile touched the man's lips, but it quickly faded as he assessed her more carefully. "Magic isn't your calling, is it?"
Celeste's breath caught in her throat. How could he know? She had spent so much time trying to hone her magical abilities, but it never felt right never felt natural. And now, here was this stranger, reading her like an open book.
"No," she whispered, "it's not."
The man nodded as if he had expected her answer. "Then perhaps the sword is."
Before she could respond, a loud crash echoed from the brothel behind her. Celeste's heart dropped. That was her mother's voice.
She spun around, her feet moving before her mind could catch up, and ran toward the sound. Her mother was in trouble. She knew it deep in her bones.
Bursting through the door, Celeste found her mother, Ilvia, collapsed on the floor, her face pale and drawn. A man stood over her, his hand gripping her arm tightly, his face twisted in anger.
"Let her go!" Celeste screamed, rushing toward them.
The man sneered. "Stay out of this, brat. Your mother owes me more than she can repay."
Ilvia looked up at Celeste, her eyes filled with both fear and exhaustion. "Celeste… run."
But Celeste didn't run. Without thinking, she grabbed the nearest object a small, decorative sword mounted on the wall and brandished it at the man. Her hands trembled, but she stood her ground.
"Let. Her. Go," she demanded again, her voice stronger this time.
The man laughed. "You think you can take me, little girl? Put that down before you hurt yourself."
But Celeste didn't waver. There was a fire in her eyes now, a resolve she didn't know she had. The sword felt heavy in her hands, awkward, but there was something about it that felt… right.
Before the man could move, a shadow loomed behind him. The Swordsman, the man from the courtyard, appeared in the doorway, his presence filling the room with an air of authority. His sword gleamed in his hand, and his face was cold, almost indifferent.
"Step away from the girl," the Swordsman commanded, his voice like ice.
The man holding Ilvia faltered, his bravado crumbling as he recognized the swordsman. He released Ilvia, backing away in fear.
"Y-You… I didn't know…"
"I don't care what you know," the swordsman replied, his tone sharp. "Get out. Now."
Without another word, the man fled, leaving Celeste and her mother alone in the room with the swordsman.
Celeste dropped the sword, her legs shaking as the adrenaline faded. She ran to her mother's side, helping her sit up. "Mom, are you okay?"
Ilvia smiled weakly, brushing a hand over Celeste's hair. "I'm fine, sweetheart. Just a little tired."
The Swordsman stepped closer, his gaze softening as he looked at Ilvia. "You should rest," he said gently. "Your daughter's brave, but this isn't a place for her."
Ilvia nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know… I've been trying to protect her from this life."
The swordsman's gaze shifted to Celeste, studying her intently. "She has potential," he said quietly, more to himself than to anyone else. "A spark that shouldn't be wasted."
Celeste met his eyes, unsure of what to say. There was something about him, something that felt almost… familiar. Like a mentor she hadn't met yet.
The swordsman knelt down, his face now level with hers. "Celeste, was it?" he asked. She nodded, still holding her mother's hand. "How would you like to learn the way of the sword?"
Her heart skipped a beat. The sword? The idea seemed both thrilling and terrifying. But as she thought about it, as she remembered how natural it felt to hold that blade even for just a moment she knew her answer.
"Yes," she whispered. "Teach me."
The Swordsman's lips curved into a rare smile. "Good. Then you'll come with me."