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Chapter 2 - Gavin and the Flame

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Maester Edric pushed the door open and entered. Spotting Edmund standing by the window, he offered a simple bow before speaking with a touch of excitement:

"Young Master Edmund, the child has been born. It is a boy. Both mother and child are safe. His features bear a striking resemblance to your elder brother's as a child, though his hair is silver like his mother's. The boy looks very healthy."

Hearing the news, Edmund's face lit up with joy.

"Oh? Is that true?"

The old maester smiled and nodded.

"Indeed, without a doubt, young master."

Edmund clasped his hands behind his back and paced a few steps around the room. "Very good, let the kitchen prepare some good food. Also, does my father know?"

The maester lowered his head slightly, his expression tinged with unease. "I have not yet had the chance to inform the Earl."

Edmund paused in his pacing, his expression turning serious and his gaze resolute. "Then do not tell him. You know how stubborn my father is. Conceal this for as long as you can."

The maester hesitated, his face betraying a hint of reluctance, "But the Earl will realize sooner or later, and the servants..."

Edmund gave a wry smile. "It's fine. I'll give the necessary orders to ensure they hold their tongues. If my father finds out, tell him it was on my instruction. Let him blame me."

The maester took a deep breath and nodded solemnly.

"Understood, Master Edmund. I know what to do." He bowed to Edmund once more before taking his leave.

[Mc POV]

Gavin's birth did not bring much joy to this cold and austere castle. Only his mother, Alice, gazed at him with unrestrained happiness.

Ethan Sterling regained consciousness, only to find himself in an utterly unfamiliar environment. Everything around him appeared vast and blurry, while his body felt tiny and powerless.

To his shock, he realized he could not speak or even make the simplest of movements. This fragile, infantile body was entirely beyond his control.

The strangeness of his surroundings and his predicament left Ethan confused. Then, he recalled that just before this, he had been at home playing games. He had accidentally spilled water on his keyboard, and after a crackling sound, everything went dark. Could it be… had he transmigrated? Was he now an infant?

He tried to observe the people around him, taking in their unfamiliar faces. The only one who caught his attention was a woman with damp, silver hair. Her violet eyes were filled with boundless gentleness.

Could this woman be his mother in this life? He opened his mouth, attempting to speak, but what emerged was the cry of a baby.

---

— Year 282 of the Aegon Calendar.

Ethan Sterling—or rather, Gavin Flowers—stood on the beach, clutching an iron pot tightly in his hands as he gazed at the endless expanse of the blue sea.

Cautiously, he stepped closer to the water's edge, crouched down, and carefully dipped the pot into the waves. Once it was filled with seawater, he lifted it, feeling the combined weight of the water and the pot. Struggling slightly, he carried it step by step to a pile of firewood he had prepared earlier.

Setting the iron pot down, Gavin began skillfully constructing a fire. His small hands busily arranged twigs and dried grass, and beads of sweat soon formed on his young brow.

This body is still so small. Just this bit of work, and I'm already exhausted. But it will be easy next.

He extended his hand toward the dry grass and snapped his fingers, then suddenly a weak flame appeared out of thin air at his fingertips, instantly igniting the dry grass. The flames danced joyfully, growing stronger by the second. Gavin watched the fire he had conjured out of thin air with his fingers. Though he was used to this ability, he still felt a thrill every time he used it.

It was a power he discovered at the age of four. Back then, he had been trying to start a fire using flint. However, the flint had become damp, and after countless futile attempts, his hands were sore, and he was thoroughly frustrated.

In his final desperate attempt, a spark suddenly appeared in his palm. It startled him so much that he thought he was hallucinating. But once he calmed down and tried again, a tiny flame flickered into existence. Though it extinguished quickly, Gavin was certain it wasn't an illusion.

The discovery of such an extraordinary ability filled him with joy. Yet, after some thought, he chose to tell no one—not even his mother in this life.

Through his observations over the years since his birth, Gavin understood that he had transmigrated into a world resembling the medieval period. He feared that openly displaying abilities beyond ordinary comprehension might lead to him being labeled a monster and burned at the stake.

After careful consideration, Gavin decided to keep his secret. He practiced only in solitude. Over time, he mastered the ability to conjure flames at will, and now he could sustain them for up to a minute.

Placing the iron pot securely over the fire, Gavin stared intently at the seawater inside the pot without blinking. As the flames licked the pot, steam began to rise. Droplets of water condensed on the pot's walls and dripped down.

Gavin's face flushed red from the heat of the fire, and he held a branch in his hand and poked the campfire from time to time to make it burn more vigorously.

The seawater in the pot gradually began to boil, bubbles rising one after another. As most of the water evaporated, a thin layer of white crystals appeared at the bottom of the pot. Although these crystals weren't particularly pure, they were the salt that common folk in this world consumed.

Without hesitation, Gavin quickly extinguished the fire and let the pot cool down slightly. Then, he carefully collected the coarse salt from the pot and placed it onto a clean cloth.

Next, he fetched some fresh water and carefully poured it over the salt, then began to stir it slowly. Once the mixture was uniform, he placed it back into the pot for further heating, refining it through a second round of purification.

For the third purification, he added a handful of wood ash into the pot. After repeating the process several times, what remained at the bottom of the pot was a cluster of crystalline, pure white salt.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Gavin carefully gathered the refined salt, placed it into a small cloth pouch and began to crush it.

Once the task was complete, Gavin meticulously tidied up the fire and arranged the pot. With the iron pot in hand, a satisfied smile spread across his face as he set off toward the small town beneath the castle.

On the way back to the town, Gavin gently patted the pouch of salt tucked into his clothes.

This was the result of his hard work for half a day, and a happy expression appeared on his face.

This small pouch of salt could be sold for five copper stars. In this small town, two copper stars were enough to buy a loaf of bread—though it was a hard one, far from the soft bread Gavin had eaten in his previous life.

The bread here, once it had cooled, could even be used as a weapon. In terms of hardness, it was no less formidable than a brick.

The town beneath the castle, located by the sea, wasn't lacking in salt, but most of the common folk could usually only afford the coarse salt, which had a strong bitter taste.

Only the nobility in the castle could afford the fine salt, which was mostly mined from salt mines. The people here had yet to master the technique of purifying sea salt and fine salt was ten times more expensive than coarse salt.

Using knowledge from his previous life, Gavin secretly produced some salt for sale to supplement the household income.

He had lived in the castle with his mother for a time, and since he sold small quantities each time, he had not yet attracted the attention of others so far. However, if he continued to sell, it might draw the attention of the wrong people, and if things got serious, it could lead to danger.

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[Chapter End]

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