With a swish, time in his new life gurgled away. Days blended into weeks and weeks into months. The more Leon Valerian managed to get familiar with his infant body and the rhythm of life within the Valerian estate, the more he began to piece together the puzzle that was his identity. Keen observations and developing understanding of the language revealed to him that he wasn't like other babies. Leon was born as the fifth son to Count Edmund Valerian and Lady Amelia Valerian, one of the most respectable noble families in that region.
Valeria County was a more secluded, yet prosperous, county sandwiched between rolling hills and green forests. Its prosperity was not only rooted in its very rich soil with an abundance of all resources but also in the steadfast leadership from the house of Valerian. The stories of their honor and prowess with the sword were spoken of with hushed admiration among the people. Leon had fallen into a family not only of great privilege but also of great responsibility.
As he grew in awareness, so too would his understanding of his family: the Valerians were a tightly woven tapestry of distinct persons, each sibling and parent donating threads of their uniqueness into a vitality whole.
Arthur Valerian was the oldest sibling, aged twelve, and carried an air of quiet authority. More often than not, he would be spotted walking beside their father, his posture straight, his expression serious, while listening to lessons on governance and leadership. Arthur showed unmistakable seriousness regarding his position as heir. He trained incessantly with his family's knights until his movements became sharp and precise; he became skilled in sword fighting.
Leon admired Arthur's discipline and the natural respect he got from even the older retainers of the estate. Serious in his temperament, Arthur had a protective streak that flashed out once in a great while-a hand raking through a smaller sibling's hair, or a rare, encouraging smile. Leon sensed that beneath the weight of responsibility, Arthur cared deeply for his family, even if he rarely expressed it openly.
The second brother, Benedict, was ten and Arthur's complete opposite in temperament. Where Arthur was stoic and composed, Benedict was bubbly and charismatic. He was everywhere at once, bounding across the estate with a tireless energy that left even the swiftest servants sweating to keep up. Benedict could make friends with anyone, whether fellow nobles, guards, or even the stablehands. His easy laughter and adventurous spirit were infectious, and it was clear that he was a favorite among the common folk.
Leon would often watch as Benedict led spontaneous expeditions around the estate, tree-climbing in the orchard, or finding other secretive nooks and corners around the grounds. This was tempered with a surprising cunning; he would often think his way around minor obstacles. Of course, this charismatic nature made him a natural leader, and Leon often looked forward to the day when he might join his older brother's escapades.
This quiet intellectual in the family was eight-year-old Cedric, who practically lived in the library. He spent most of his time buried under a mountain of books with an avidness that was uncanny for one his age. Cedric often kept large volumes clutched in pale hands, buried in histories and philosophies or ancient magic theory tomes.
Unlike Benedict's boisterous nature, Cedric possessed a calm and gentle demeanor. He spoke little but listened attentively, and his few remarks always made him bright with unexpected insight. Leon noticed how he respected everyone, no matter what station, and how his soft-spoken words carried significance in family discussions. Cedric's love of knowledge also made him fond of teaching and patiently explaining things to anyone asking-whether it be an inquisitive sibling or any servant showing eagerness to learn. Leon felt a very strong affinity with Cedric, finding a fellow spirit in the dogged way he pursued insight.
Her older sister was Diana, seven years old and a whirlwind. Willful and proud, with a streak of independence, she chafed at the conventions which bound noblewomen. Diana fought with her brothers, her blows quick and sure as she laboured to be their equal. Her hair was often loose around her face as she fought with wooden swords, a gleam in her eye.
She was more than a warrior-in-training: fiercely protective of her family, ever ready to defend her siblings against any perceived slight. Yet simultaneously, she was competitive, driven by an unyielding desire to prove herself. Leon watched as this sort of fire in her belly inspired the passion in those around her to press beyond their limits. She wasn't just a sibling; she was a role model, someone who led by example and demanded excellence.
Leon's younger twin, Elara, was a joy to behold. At less than a few months older, she was a bright and cheery baby whose contagious laughter echoed through the halls of the estate. She often stretched out small hands towards whatever was within reach, her wide eyes sparkling with curiosity. She was magnetic even then and knew just how to claim smiles and adoration from any who saw her.
Leon had a special bond with Elara because they shared the same moment in the crib, their movements and coos synchronized in an unspoken understanding. She was close to him, in every way a reminder of the warmth and innocence which this new life granted. He silently vowed to take care of her, that her laughter would never grow old in the corridors of their home.
At the heart of this family were their parents, Count Edmund and Lady Amelia Valerian. Edmund was a man of imposing stature and quiet strength. His decisions carried the weight of authority, yet his actions revealed deep justice and compassion. Leon often saw him speaking with knights and stewards, his tone firm, yet fair. Undoubtedly, Edmund commanded respect, not through fear, but through his resilient integrity.
Amelia, in contrast, was a figure of grace and warmth. Her golden hair and kind smile made her a beloved presence in the household. She managed the estate with effortless efficiency, balancing the needs of her family and the people of Valeria County. Leon noticed how she treated everyone with equal kindness, from the highest-ranking steward to the humblest servant. Her love for her family was evident in the way she doted on her children, her touch always gentle and reassuring.
The Valerians were more than just a noble family. They were a unit bound by loyalty, love, and mutual respect. Their interactions were filled with warmth, whether it was a shared meal at the grand dining table or a quiet evening by the fireplace. They did not regard their servants as mere tools but as part of them, which was the least found in any noble family. This bond was not only inside the estate but also outside, where the citizens of Valeria County spoke about the Valerians with respect and gratitude.
Leon, an infant but with the brain of a grown man, was overwhelmed by his new family dynamics. They weren't even close to perfect: Arthur carried the weight of expectation heavy on his shoulders; sometimes Benedict's recklessness led him into trouble; at times, Cedric was withdrawn and isolated; Diana's competitive streak could almost border on stubbornness. Even their parents did not go without carrying the burden of leadership in a land full of adversity. Yet, these imperfections only furthered their being human, relatable.
For the first time in either of his lives, Leon felt what it meant to truly belong. This family, with all its kookiness and intricacies, was his. And he was determined to earn his place among them, to live up to the legacy of the Valerian name. He watched his siblings grow, each carving their path, and found himself filled with a quiet resolve. This second chance was not a gift but a responsibility. And he would rise to meet it, whatever the future held.