Through all your scheming, posturing and little games, and all the resulting chaos that your actions have caused. Deeds and actions that intimately and intrinsically impact every last one of us. One has to wonder: Why had no one thought to ask me?

  -Silas Norgard, date unknown

  Well, this is upsetting.

  Did I just get sold like a stale baguette? Is slavery a thing here? Or... people ownership? I don't even know if there is a word for this in English. Serfhood? I'm so confused, but I saw the money change hands. Sure, mom didn't look thrilled to accept it, but the drawn out goodbye made me confident that I wasn't expected home anytime soon.

  I was put into a carriage pulled by four buff dudes standing on weird curved stilts that absolutely shimmered with magic. A well put together lady followed Akira and myself inside. She sat opposite us. Oddly, her dorsal braid was plaited with six strands, not the four of my parents, and her scales were a pale turquoise instead of a navy blue.

  Then the door closed, and so did my view of my parents. Probably for the last time. I might not be super proficient at the language but I could read the mood. I wasn't naive.

  I couldn't believe it. It was happening again. I'd barely gotten over the previous time the universe pulled this shit on me, and now—barely a year later—it was taking my family from me. Again. I'd worked to like these people, damnit. At least this time, Akira was allowed to come along. So much for small miracles, I supposed.

  To say I was upset was an understatement.

  The rich lady gave us various toys which were fairly fascinating. Blocks, rattles, and plushies that all had scintillating magical patterns. She then introduced herself as Sakra, saying the name a few times to me. I just stared blankly at her for a moment before feigning an increased interest in a fancy red block.

  No. I wasn't upset. That would imply that I was merely unhappy. I was well past being merely disappointed at this unpleasant turn of events. I was livid. Furious. But the emotion had peaked in that dark spot behind my heart and turned cold. Then it sank deep, deep inside to the point where I could barely register its presence.

  I remember a few months after I'd met Caroline, she'd surprised me by inviting me out. That alone hadn't been so unusual, but the spot had been odd. Axe throwing. A weird barn place where they gave us hatchets and told us to 'yeet'. There was also a spot around back where we could take our frustrations out on logs if we wanted.

  I didn't get it.

  Then Caroline had very gently sat me down and told me that I could be pretty mean when I was angry. Which was a surprise. Then she told me that pranks shouldn't be hurtful. Especially not to friends. I took her words to heart.

  So, yes. I was furious, but I acknowledged the feeling. The loss of control.

  And embraced it.

  What? Did you think I would let it go? You're adorable.

  Barely fifteen minutes into the journey, Akira started making a nuisance of herself. Her aura roiled through every unpleasant expression she knew. Much to the distress of the rich lady. Which was interesting. It was exceedingly clear that this woman didn't know how to handle children. She was one of those people who'd raised children onto a pedestal, and oscillated between locking up and overreacting to every one of Akira's shrill screams.

  I studied the woman as she failed to calm Akira, careful to keep my anger from my aura. I succeeded, but didn't quite manage to keep my eyes from narrowing. Thankfully, she didn't seem to notice. Which was another tell. This woman—this Sakra—didn't know me. I'd come to accept that I'd rather holistically failed at acting like a normal baby to my parents. Hell, even Akira knew there was something off about me. But Sakra didn't. And with all the things I'd learned I could probably fake it better this time around.

  Why? Well, Sakra seemed like the head honcho around here. And if she liked me, then it would likely grant me more freedom. And opportunity.

  Akira eventually quieted. I was getting sleepy so decided to roll with the opportunity. Let's see... what was the cutest way...

  "Saki!" I cried, reaching for her and dropping my block. Sakra blinked as I crawled to the edge of the seat. I reached for her again and—mentally crossing my fingers—toppled off the bench. She caught me before I could crack my skull, but her shock was fairly funny nonetheless.

  "Saki!" I babbled happily, flexing my aura, and grabbing at her dorsal braid. Thank god I didn't actually have to fake a smile, though I didn't have the heart to project the false happiness as strongly as I normally did. She held me gingerly, unsure, so I pulled her thick dorsal braid to my arcane eye and cooed.

  Her auric expression wobbled dangerously.

  Perfect.

  Hey, don't judge me. She had it coming.

  I fell asleep on Sakra's shoulder. Which sucked because I didn't know how long the journey was. All I knew was when I awoke, the carriage had stopped and we'd arrived at a castle. I was handed off to a buxom caretaker but was occupied by a different sight.

  They had spider-people here!

  Or, spider centaurs? They actually looked more like those killer spider droids from dystopian sci-fi. They had eight, fuzzy black or brown legs sprouting from a flat cephalothorax and no abdomen. A squat, hairless, and almost-human torso sprouted vertically from the creepy mount. Their faces—and expressions!—were basically human. Which was nice. If I ignored the six sclera-less, pitch-black eyes.

  Why were all the species in this world creepy? And bald.

  I put that particular mystery aside as I was introduced to my new routine. The castle was large, and I barely saw a twentieth of it before I was shuttled up to the playroom. It was a long room, with soft fabrics and rounded edges everywhere. It looked hastily assembled, with several boxes of toys still yet to be unpacked into the shelves and cabinets.

  The first day was fairly uneventful. Sakra vanished for a bit, then came back and I humored her for hours. She was endlessly fascinated with me, and I even managed to cheer up an exasperated Akira with my exaggerated baby fumbling.

  Dinner rolled around and I got to see the servants come and go. There were only a couple, not the horde I'd sort of expected, but that still lent the dinner table an odd atmosphere. The caretaker lady tried to feed me, but after a few mouthfuls, I complained and got Sakra to do the work. She was overjoyed by the attention, and honestly kind of neglected Akira who ate glumly beside the caretaker lady.

  Don't worry Akira. I'll get us out of here. Just be patient.

  Sakra bid us goodbye after dinner, me more so than Akira, but she tried with the older girl. Then she vanished and Akira and I were taken up to our room. Two beds—one for Akira, and one for the caretaker—lined the wall with a crib for me. Ha. I have a crib, with a cute little blue-painted railing. If they thought that would contain my power, they were in for a rude awakening.

  I fell asleep as soon as I hit the sheets. Naturally, I woke up in the middle of the night for my workout routine, but the caretaker lady somehow noticed me. She picked me up and rocked me until I pretended to fall asleep again. I waited until I felt like she was asleep, before trying again, but once again the woman sprang up and interrupted me.

  A quick arcane survey revealed a nearly invisible thread of mana connecting me to the woman.

  Well. That wouldn't do at all.

  The next day I spent as much time as I could with Akira and Sakra in a repeat of the first. When night came I screamed my head off until Sakra took me away from the meddlesome caretaker. I clung to her like a barnacle until eventually the caretaker helped strap me to Sakra's chest with one of those scarf carrier things.

  Which was how I got to see her office where she worked. I dozed, but stopped myself from sleeping. Eventually, Sakra must have taken pity on me, and went to her bed. I gripped her dorsal braid tight, the image of a clingy baby, while she caressed my forehead. I slept.

  I still had that toddler tether thing on me, but I wasn't worried. Sakra was a much more nervous caretaker than the experienced buxom woman she'd hired. After I awoke, Sakra and I played a game where I snapped the toddler tether and she replaced it. Naturally, I won, and Sakra eventually dozed off with me tucked into the crook of her elbow.

  Once I was sure she was asleep, I channeled my will aggressively into the shadow cast by my aura to obscure my efforts from Sakra's arcane perception. No more casual progress. I'd known I was leaving a good amount on the table for a while now, and it was time to use it. I was sweating and trembling by the time I was done, my will a limp, broken blanket as I trembled into Sakra's warm embrace. She woke up then, and I think she thought I was scared because she murmured reassurances to me until I lost consciousness.

  The following day was miserable, as the day after a workout always was, but I comforted myself by eating my weight in rich meat. Akira was handed off to a tutor of sorts. The man spoke at length with her, asking her to complete simple tasks in what I recognized as an effort to figure out how much she knew. Reading, writing, speaking, and various other skills. Basically, she was in good hands—and not on the verge of a panic attack.

  Once again, I clung to Sakra but was otherwise well behaved. I got to listen to her handle the castle's affairs with a spider-person she called Milo. It was enlightening, even if I only understood one in every five or ten words.

  She took me for a walk after lunch, and I discovered that spring had arrived and the mana in the air had a fresh open quality to it that worried me. How far had that magic carriage taken me? Did it have a warp drive installed? It was then I realized that I didn't know the way home, even if I was old enough to make the journey alone.

  But time cared little for my growing list of problems. It passed, and I couldn't say I was being mistreated. Regardless of how dramatic and frequent Akira's daily—and sometimes also nightly—tantrums were. They were good to me in the best way they knew how. It was irksome. Like they were hoping I'd develop Stockholm's Syndrome or something.

  Though I couldn't deny that part of the ease came because of Sakra. She doted on me endlessly, possessing infinite patience for my presence and inarticulate desires. To be fair, it wasn't fair. I knew what I was doing and did it despite knowing that it made me a bad person. I encouraged her, as cunningly as I knew how, by calling her Saki and giggling while grabbing clumsily at her tail.

  I didn't particularly like her, but I supposed I didn't really know her. She was easy to manipulate at least, which would be necessary for my plan. A plan I didn't have yet, but that was fine. I could be patient if I needed to be. I'd survived being stuck as an infant for months, after all.

  All I knew was that whatever plan I came up with would require power, knowledge, and resources. The more the better. So, I listened. I watched. I trained until my will was crying bloody tears at night, and ate like a glutton whenever the opportunity presented itself.

  I ingratiated myself with Sakra, and did my absolute best to keep Akira occupied by doing her 'job' as my 'big sister'.

  And throughout this time, the sour churn in my heart stilled into something less cruel. Plans of burning the castle down faded away into something softer. Like the chill fog that gently kissed the mountain peaks in the morning, and that inevitable, passionless force that turned steel into rust and stone into sand.

  On our fifth day of exile, Akira and I were stood on a balcony overlooking the castle's main courtyard. It was a broad, sandy space where two platoons of soldiers were training. Naturally, over half of the soldiers were running, or marching, or doing various other menial strengthening. Our attention was focused elsewhere, however. Off to the side, a dozen soldiers were launching blasts of force of frankly unnecessary complexity at an array of straw dummies.

  Sakra held me to her hip to give me a view and was gently encouraging both of us to copy the soldiers. It seemed a little advanced to me, but what did I know. Akira, for her part, needed little encouragement, though she was a little grumpy when she was asked to demonstrate her abilities. I required a little more, and Sakra urged me with her baby-voice and nudges of her monstrous will. But really, she focused on Akira, since I readily copied the other girl when prompted.

  I wasn't clueless as to what Sakra was doing, but I didn't see any reason to hide my abilities. They already mostly knew how good we were, and fighting it for no reason seemed childish. That didn't mean that I dropped my baby persona. I never once allowed my power output or finesse to exceed Akira's.

  Eventually, Sakra grew tired of nudging us. She spoke softly to Milo, as she watched Akira struggle with the novel spell matrix. I listened in, keeping my gaze on the training soldiers. I'd long since memorized their combat spell and found Sakra's words far more interesting.

  Unfortunately, my new resolve didn't magically make me competent at languages. It didn't help that Milo's accent was atrocious. He kept swallowing the ends of his words, a feature I attributed to his species.

  But I got the gist. Sakra was leaving in a month-ish. To collect someone? Honestly, she might be going out to torture them and I wouldn't know.

  Not that it mattered. I had my deadline.

  Sakra nuzzled me with her thick dorsal braid, and I automatically flashed happiness.

  Our group went inside and our structured playtime began. I immediately ignored their efforts, crawled to a wall and struggled to my feet. Then I followed the wall to the closed door and complained loudly until Sakra opened it, her aura oozing amusement.

  I explored the castle with Sakra on my heels. We were on the second floor of the monolithic stone structure, and I'd mapped out most of the place. Our playroom, bedroom and Sakra's office were located on opposite ends of the floor. There were a few other rooms, most of which had closed doors, but I managed to identify a small armory, a hidden servants' staircase, and a map room crossed with a library.

  The first floor contained the dining room, and entrance hall and various doorways that spawned servants at rapid rates. But there were still much of the first floor I hadn't explored. Which was the point of today's expedition.

  As I got to an unfamiliar stairway, I dropped to my hands and butt and started the awkward reverse process of descending. Unfortunately, Sakra picked me up and turned me around, chuckling softly. I complained and returned to the stairs but she did it again, and then when I insisted, she picked me up and brought me back to the playroom.

  I was clearly not allowed to go down there. But why? Actually. Now that I thought about it. Even Akira was weirdly cloistered on the second floor of the castle. We weren't allowed to leave, and our brief stints outdoors were carefully controlled such that we never met the other denizens of the castle.

  Even the servants were limited, I realized. I saw evidence of at least a dozen people caring for the castle, but I'd only seen three of the staff.

  Hmm...

  The fact they were keeping us in a walled garden wasn't necessarily a problem. It was more of a loss of opportunity. The fewer people there were, the fewer cracks there were that I could exploit.

  The day continued, and as had become routine, I was strapped to Sakra's chest as she went to her office. I watched as she read through reports and wrote out missives. She handed some of them to Milo, but a good amount were placed in a basket that was routinely emptied every morning.

  Slowly, an idea crystallized. The most difficult part of my situation was my age. I needed help. From an adult, ideally. But no one would listen to a baby. But a letter... No one would question a letter. Especially if I could forge Sakra's writing style.

  But for that I needed to learn how to read and write. Not well, mind you. I just needed a rudimentary understanding of a few key phrases and the ability to replicate Sakra's writing style. Ideally, I'd learn more to avoid obvious problems that a native speaker would recognize in an instant, but I knew my limits. I'd be satisfied with a rudimentary and scattered understanding for now.

  And if it didn't work, becoming literate didn't seem like the worst way to spend my time.

  So, after about an hour of impersonating a wallflower, I surprised Sakra by grabbing for her latest missive. It took a fair amount of awkward cajoling, but I'm pretty sure I learned the word for a 'letter'. Then, at my continued insistence, Sakra said something unrelated to the letter, before taking it and placing it in the basket.

  Not ideal. Maybe I could convince her to read me a bedtime story?

  The days went by quickly. Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised. I was still very young after all and spent a good two thirds of the day asleep. My intense nightly training didn't help matters, and before I knew it, a week had gone by.

  I missed my parents. The new ones, not the ones from earth, and was once again surprised by how much.

  But it was clear that Akira missed hers more, or perhaps she was just better at expressing it. On the eighth day, she bit our caretaker's arm and closed herself off in the playroom. Given that the room didn't have a lock, it was relatively easy for the adults to pull her out, though I was glad they allowed her to stew a little before doing so.

  I tried to help the best I could, and I think I succeeded to some degree. It involved a lot of getting into accidental trouble so she could rush in and save me as my 'big-sister'. Magic was also an easy distraction.

  It all only firmed my resolve to go home. I found myself thinking furiously at times. I was too passive. Collecting information and doing general training when there were more active actions I could take to progress.

  That very night I skipped training and identified all the skills I needed to master in order to enact my plan. I would need a better mastery of their language, and improve my magic in a few specific ways. Thankfully, I was already working on that first point.

  Turned out, I didn't need to do anything radical to get people to read books to me. Part of Akira's curriculum was reading, and it was trivial to invite myself to her lessons. The books Akira was being read were simple, childish things but extraordinarily helpful regardless.

  I learned that the written language was entirely phonetic, with three stacked compound symbols to indicate which sounds made up the word. Conveniently, the three symbols corresponded to my three vocal cords, though were oddly arrayed upside down; the top symbol corresponded to my deepest vocal cord responsible for guttural, deep sounds.

  Once I realized this, it wasn't long before I could slowly sound out words. Not that I knew what they meant yet. Regardless, I kept this new skill of mine entirely hidden. I had no idea how people would react, and I had little desire to further complicate the situation.

  Of course, I quickly outgrew the limited childish vocabulary of Akira's lessons. Thankfully, Sakra didn't seem at all bothered when I suddenly gained an unhealthy obsession with every written word I came across. It was easy to get her to say words and often evenly helpfully pantomimed the meanings with intricate strands of mana.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  So, my hidden vocabulary grew, slowly but steadily. I never said any of the words out loud. Except UP! That one was imminently useful.

  While that was happening, I worked on other aspects of my plan. Some sneaking was most definitely required, so I replaced my strength training with invisibility training—which I renamed to concealment training since it only actually hid my core. Quickly the exercise transformed from simply holding my core mana stationary to full on core mana manipulation. Once I did that, both the duration and degree to which I could halt my core mana improved dramatically.

  Lastly, and perhaps most important to my plan was the ability to replicate Sakra's handwriting. I instantly dismissed trying to master doing so with my hand. Not only would I need to learn how to use a quill, I would also need hours and hours of practice to train my hands. Not to mention the piles of materials I would need for practice. Materials I had no way to ask for or hide.

  The solution, as always, was magic. I already knew that mana could be manipulated to interact with the physical world. If I used my rapidly growing manipulation skills to form a mold of a specific letter, I could copy letters exactly. Like a printer, but tuned to Sakra's handwriting. In fact, if I made the molds correctly, I should be able to reuse them to great effect. Then I simply would need to levitate or somehow transport a drop of ink onto the mold and make sure the ink didn't bleed out of the margins.

  My extensive training gave me the necessary foundation to achieve this, but it still required a significant amount of trial and error to get right. I encountered problems with the mold stability, ink volume, and transport methodology. I went through a half-dozen iterations of each technique until the final product that I ended up with was virtually unrecognizable to my first attempts. The final result was more similar to a stamp than a mold, and was vastly more complicated than I preferred.

  To create a letter stamp, I wove a dense tapestry of one-thaum strands. The gossamer matrix was laid down over the paper, and a second diffuse layer was interwoven with the base to lock it to the paper. Then, I built up five-thaum strands in simple, repeating half-hitches around the outline of the letter to be copied. Finally, every third knot, I folded the gossamer base over the thicker strands and tied the whole structure off to stabilize it further.

  This kind of spellcraft was definitely not the standard method the people here used. They favored spindly, but functional matrices, that used mana infusion to selectively stretch and contract certain segments. My spell—if it could be called that—resulted in a spongy, semi solid mass of mana that was bound to the very air that suffused it.

  Holding it was like how I imagined holding aerogel might feel like. It was impossibly light and fragile, but structurally sound enough to hold a single drop of ink until it soaked into the paper beneath.

  I worked like a demon on these separate projects and as another week went by—followed quickly by a second—Akira definitely realized something was up. It started off as a simple, questioning look, before the number of tantrums she threw dramatically reduced and she started going through her days with the kind of severe seriousness only a four year old can pull off. The adults collectively let out a sigh of relief when this happened, but didn't realize what had sparked the change. None of them knew Akira as well as I did.

  She was planning an escape. It was cute, really.

  Unfortunately, my lack of independence was a constant and frustrating hindrance. The adults gave Akira and myself time alone. Ostensibly to play, but most of my waking hours were around Sakra. I grew exceptionally proficient at casting magic in between my clutched hands, but I was still forced to extend my night hours to compensate. The lack of sleep left me grouchy.

  But the bigger problem was my inability to write things down. Ironic, really, considering I was constantly surrounded by writing supplies, but it was simply infeasible to get proficient enough in the language by the time Sakra went to do... whatever it was she needed to do.

  I needed to create a dictionary. Of words and phrases that mapped to English ones that I could reference. Except, such an artifact would raise more than a few eyebrows if discovered; a practical guarantee considering my lack of personal space.

  I turned to magic for a solution, but it didn't come from where I expected it to. I had known there was something fishy about my core for a while now. It exuded an intangible pressure that pressed on mana in a way that tamed the normally slippery and volatile substance. I attributed the behavior of the solidified rivers of mana flowing around my body to this theoretical force.

  My concealment training only improved my understanding of the oddity, and actually inspired me to play around. Which is how I realized that mana constructs inside of my chest were several orders of magnitude more stable than those outside. Which was a big deal, because it meant I could save spells inside of myself. And, most importantly, no one could see into my core.

  The first time I gently slipped the English words 'does this actually work' into my chest and pulled them out unharmed, I almost cried. I immediately crammed as much as I could into my core, starting with fifty eight ultra-high-quality letter stamps. Naturally, I smashed headfirst into space constraints, but that did little to dim my excitement.

  Things were coming together.

  By the end of the month, my mana manipulation had improved by leaps and bounds. To the point I was able to grasp and manipulate a single, precise volume of water—or ink—with purely my will. My core was jam packed with all the letter stamps I would need to write, and I had a small, but growing list of phrases that I'd made English translations for.

  Another benefit of my improved control was more space inside of my core. Not because my core got bigger, but rather I was better able to create sub-thaumic strands to write with. I also began 3D stacking the growing dictionary and wrapping them around my incomprehensibly complex web of mana veins. It was growing to the point were I was having issues with retrieval, but I delayed a whole system redesign until a later date.

  The castle was getting busier, and Sakra was giving off clingy vibes. Even Akira felt something was off. The time when Sakra's supposed trip was coming, and I needed to prepare myself. I paused all magic activities and forcibly relaxed my will. I didn't train at night, and simply cycled through several calming exercises to keep myself limber.

  The day was coming. And when it did. I would be ready.

  "To my steward Nilas," Sakra read. "Please see that our carriage driver, Aarlas of Chikarun, receive full compensation for services rendered. He has performed his duties well and without complaint, and I am satisfied with his service. Signed, Lady Sakra Krii'ara ka Norgard. And that there is my signature and today's date."

  Sakra pointed out the words as she read, and coiled her will into a carriage, then a stack of coins, and then a happy expression. She was sitting on the couch in her office, little Silas curled up against her side and holding up one of her most recent missives in his small fingers. Silas' intelligent eyes followed her finger seriously as she read. When she finished, he glanced up at her with a small, bright smile.

  Sakra's heart clenched painfully. It was perfect. He was perfect. The way his little fingers squeezed the paper too hard and left indents in the thick paper. And how he struggled off of the couch and toddled across the room. To how he laboriously climbed her padded chair and carefully placed the letter back in the missive tray with such care.

  Even his often flat expression was perfect as it only made those rare smiles all the more beautiful. She couldn't wait to introduce him to Lord Domas.

  Sakra smiled lovingly as Silas returned with another letter in hand. He was getting tired, she noticed. Still, she entertained him with the contents of another bland missive until he fell asleep against her side. Milo said his interest in her work—rather than colorful children's books—was a sign he liked her. Who was she to complain then, when just the thought made her deliriously happy.

  Two precise knocks clicked on the door, followed by a creak as her two most trusted advisors stepped in. Milo came first, the fuzzy hairs on his legs standing on end as he entered the room. Despite that, his 'facial' expression remained steady as he made room for Morag. The second drider was far less reserved, flinching aggressively as he entered the room, and leveling a distrustful look at her.

  "Dragon's above, lady. It reeks in here. Who are you and what have you done with Sakra?" Morag exclaimed. Even for a drider, her spymaster looked gaunt.

  "Hush, you," Sakra blushed, looking down and away in embarrassment. "It's not that bad."

  "Not that bad—" Morag scoffed.

  "I think it's wonderful," Milo interrupted. "I've never seen you so happy."

  "Thanks," Sakra mumbled, watching Silas' peaceful expression in lieu of meeting their eyes. "I just wish everyone was so happy."

  "Akira will come around, my lady," Milo reassured.

  "She hates me."

  "Give it time. It has barely been longer than a month."

  Silas wriggled against her side, his little hands grasping blindly as his eyelids squeezed tight. Sakra automatically placed a finger in between his fingers and smiled as he gripped it. She caressed him, murmuring soft reassurances until he quieted with a soft mumble.

  "Uegh," Morag grumbled. "I think I threw up a little in my mouth."

  Milo said nothing.

  "Anyway! Uhm," Sakra coughed, her braid burning in embarrassment. "I didn't call you both here for that. It's been a month. Has your analysis of the children changed?"

  "No, my lady," Milo shook his head, a sign of disagreement. "If anything. I think both of them are more talented than what we initially assumed. Silas is adapting exceptionally, and even Akira is doing well. Relatively. I perused the reports and I believe in half a year to a year, Akira will be fully integrated."

  Milo glanced at Morag, but the gaunt drider was frowning at Silas.

  "Right, well. Regarding arcane aptitude," Milo continued. "I believe Akira is perhaps a one in a hundred thousand talent. A true prodigy that should be nurtured. She is exceptionally intelligent and curious. Her core stability and arcane finesse are world class for her age. Regarding Silas, I fear he doesn't cast enough to form a proper opinion. He copies Akira at times, which might indicate that he is as strong or stronger than—"

  "He is not," Morag said quietly.

  "Excuse me?" Milo asked.

  "His web. His core. Whatever. It is frayed. Constantly." Morag gestured vaguely with a leg. His arms crossed over his chest. "The kid is trying immensely hard to keep up with Akira."

  "Is that your analysis, Morag?" Sakra asked.

  Morag didn't respond for several long moments. His jaw worked and the muscle in his jaw ticked spastically. It was one of those 'facial' expressions Milo said indicated frustration. Sakra waited patiently for the man to find his words.

  Eventually, he spoke. "The boy is a monstrous talent."

  Sakra waited a beat for him to continue, but when he didn't, she raised an eyebrow. One of those expressions she'd adopted from the driders.

  "Expand," she said evenly.

  "The boy is... strong. Assuming even modest growth, we should expect a ten fold increase in power by the time he is five. In all likelihood he might become a fourth circle mage before he reaches the age of majority." Milo took in a deep breath. "The boy isn't just talented. With proper nurturing, he might just become the single strongest individual since the age of kings. You are standing on a dragon's horde, Sakra. That is my analysis. You need to be very careful with the crown."

  "Thank you, Morag," Sakra said, eyes locked on the sleeping babe. "What I'm hearing is that nothing needs to change. We keep him secret. Both of them. Are you up for the task, Morag?"

  Morag's lips pulled back in a fearsome grin. Then he bowed deeply, though Sakra noticed it was inclined subtly toward Silas. "I would be honored to protect the next Dragon slayer."

  Sakra snorted in amusement. "Not slaying any dragons quite yet. First he needs to grow up. In the meantime, I'll be leaving tonight for Colefallow. I should get there by morning, and be back with Lord Domas' retinue in three days. Is everything in order for my absence, Milo?"

  "Just a few more things, my lady," Milo nodded easily and produced a 'small' sheaf of documents that he set on her desk.

  "Good," Sakra suppressed a sigh. "Goodnight, Milo. Morag. I'll see you both soon."

  As her advisors exited, Sakra turned to Silas.

  "And goodnight, little Silas," she kissed his forehead. "Domas is going to love you."

  She missed how Silas' earholes flared as she sat at her desk, or how his eyes opened lazily when her quill started scratching at parchment. His will remained perfectly clear and dormant throughout, somehow projecting the casual confidence of a predator waiting to strike.

  I might be dumb as a bag of bricks, but I wasn't stupid. The spider twins were a problem. The Morag dude had a freaky level of control of his aura, and I suspected he was more perceptive than most. Milo, likewise, was also likely to recognize any forged letters due to his familiarity with Sakra.

  They both had to go.

  Yeesh, it sounds so sinister when I put it that way. All I meant was that they would need to receive urgent instructions that would temporarily pull them away from the castle. Likewise, I'd identified several other key figures that would require instruction. A group who'd petitioned—and been denied—construction of a new house, and several others I'd noted during my extensive observation. The missives for all of which were carefully prepared in my soul core.

  I lay in my crib, eyes closed but constantly scanning the room and the adjoining hallway with my arcane eye. Sakra was gone. The castle had fallen asleep an hour ago, and the last few members of the staff had slowly filtered into their rooms. The castle was quiet.

  It was go time.

  I took in a deep breath, then snared the micro-thread of mana monitoring me. It shivered, but I flared my aura to suppress the vibrations. With utmost care, I disconnected it from my ankle, and tied it to my pillow. I stood up. No response.

  Take that. Stupid caretaker.

  My body moved to my will. Perhaps not gracefully, but with far more poise than a mere few months ago. I climbed the fence of my crib, and flipped my body over the other side. A thick thread of mana tied off to the frame and held tightly by my will helped lower me to the floor.

  My will flexed eagerly. It felt good. Rested and strong.

  My baby onesie covered my feet in soft fabric and made my footsteps perfectly silent. I crept to the door of the nursery, passing by our caretaker and the sleeping Akira. The door was closed, but it was a mere matter of will to shove a mass of mana against the latch.

  Click

  I froze, eyeing the caretaker carefully, but her lump in the darkness didn't shift. A second passed. Then two. Then I carefully pulled the door open just enough to let me through.

  Success. The hallway was deserted, and I quickly crawled to Sakra's office. Walking was fun, but it was hard to deny my crawling speed when boosted by my enchanted diaper. Sakra's office door received a similar treatment. It wasn't locked. Ever. Which I personally thought was a security risk, but I supposed it made it easier for the staff. Plus, I supposed everyone knew everyone here. It wasn't like the public spaces back on Earth.

  I climbed onto Sakra's desk and pulled out paper from her pile. Then, came the letter stamps from my soul core, and the heavy ceramic pot of ink.

  I started writing.

  The process was difficult and slow. I arranged my stamps carefully on the paper, double and triple checking my grammar before precisely orienting the stamps with my will to ink in the letters. That alone wouldn't have strained my will. Not even close. I had long since surpassed such a simple task. No. It was my insistence on safety that dragged the process to a crawl.

  My core mana flowed through my veins at a sluggish crawl, hampering the fidelity of my will by over 50%. At the same time, I was working half blind since I kept my arcane eye trained constantly on the room's entrance.

  But the first letter—to Milo—was completed without a hitch. Then I finished the second. And the third. And on and on. Two hours passed and I struggled against the limits of my body's endurance.

  A certain part of me cringed at the chaos all of these letters would cause. But I quashed the feeling down. Were so many letters necessary? Perhaps not. But for this plan to work, chaos was required. The more the better.

  None of the missives I wrote were dangerous. They were all in the line of approving various projects, or sending messages. Several of which were inherently contradictory. It was the type of thing that would get people excited and rush around. The perfect sort of environment to hide the real purpose of all this.

  I placed the final letter in the pile, one asking a certain Aarlas the Carriage Driver to take two children back home to visit their parents. He was to leave them there, and return posthaste. A certain dark sense of accomplishment filled me as I completed my task.

  Time to go.

  I tidied up and exited the office, only to almost immediately hear someone coming down the hall. I dove behind a plant pot and crushed my aura as a soft pair of slippers approached. The maid didn't see me, but I barely saw her either. My vision dulled, and I felt oddly detached as my core mana gelled. Ever so carefully, I relaxed my grip just as the maid vanished around the bend.

  I started back to the nursery. Another maid moved by, and I realized it had taken me longer than I'd expected to write the letters. My auric concealment worked wonders and the second maid didn't notice me, either. Still, I let out shuddering sigh of relief as I finally slipped into the nursery.

  It was dark in the room. The aura of both Akira and our caretaker pulsed in that dim shifting pattern that indicated sleep. Morning was coming, but it would be an hour at least before either woke.

  I climbed back into my crib with significantly more difficulty than before. I was tired and drained from hours of focus. Still, the plan wasn't quite over. After all, it would be suspicious, if tonight was the one night I didn't wake anyone up.

  I dropped onto my pillow with aplomb. The toddler tether snapped, causing the bundle of blankets beside the crib to jerk. I dutifully made hungry baby noises which brought my caretaker groaning out of bed to feed me. The bottled milk was... okay. It was thin. And needed salt.

  Just another reason to rush home.

  I settled down easily, genuinely tired after the meal, and watched the woman return to bed. It dawned on me then that I didn't know her name. A full month spent in her company, and my brain had automatically relegated her into the category of: Enemy. I was sure someone must have mentioned it at some point. Hell, even my awful conversation skills didn't excuse such a lack. Names were fairly obvious in context.

  Hmm... Maybe Caroline was right.

  I needed to work on that.

  Anyway. I closed my eyes, fully prepared to sleep until morning, but the excitement prevented me. I kept imagining distant noises. Clangs, or shouts, or a general bustle of activity. Some kind of indication that my plan was working. Or that I'd been caught. My swirling thoughts prevented my rest until the dawn filtered soft rays of sunshine through the room's small window.

  This was the canonical wake up time for the rest of the castle, and when the shouts and clangs I'd been expecting started.

  I couldn't see them, but the sounds of the castle's first armed platoon preparing in the courtyard woke my roommates. I grinned as the racket grew louder and more people flooded into the courtyard. I complained loudly until I was brought beside the window and could look out.

  Just as I expected. A platoon of soldiers was gathering. Their gear clattered loudly, and what I guessed were curses filtered through the air. They were loaded down in gear and had that bereaved look of people given a surprise assignment.

  Just as a captain yelled at them to shut up, three carriages pulled by exhausted looking runners burst through the gate. The doors opened before the vehicles even fully stopped, unloading a group of paunchy looking businessmen onto the cobbles. The members of the third carriage were spider-people and as soon as the two groups saw each other they speed-walked to the castle's main entrance where a rather worried looking Milo was there to greet them.

  I smirked.

  I raised my gaze to the walls, but I knew I wouldn't see Morag's exit. If indeed he bought the fabricated letter. He should have received his first, and would have vacated the premises before he could grow suspicious of the activity.

  Akira asked our caretaker what was going on but naturally she didn't know. She took us to breakfast a few minutes later. The three of us sat by a window and watched things happen as we nibbled through the meal.

  Then, just as we finished eating, a buff looking man poked his head in.

  "Is this, eh... the two kids?" Aarlas the carriage driver called from the doorway.

  "Yes?" Our caretaker nodded hesitantly.

  "I've got me here a missive to take them two on a trip." Aarlas stepped in, holding out a crumpled letter.

  "What?" She exclaimed, reading the letter. "What? I wasn't informed of this! Why wasn't I informed of this?"

  "Dunno, ma'am," Aarlas shrugged. "Lotsa people gettin' suprise orders today. Best not question it, is my thoughts, eh? Heckin you might've gotten a letter yerself."

  "I haven't..." our caretaker, mumbled. Then her gaze sharpened. "Wait, you're going alone?"

  "Uh, yeah?" Aarlas rubbed his scalp. "That a problem, ma'am."

  "Of course it's a problem, you—" our caretaker swallowed her next word with a glance at Akira. "No, this is unacceptable. You must take guards with you."

  "S'really not a prob—"

  But our caretaker would hear none of it. She blew out of the kitchen, with me in her arm and Akira dragged in her wake. We visited the barracks—which was new—and before long, Akira and I were jammed into Aarlas' small carriage as two confused guards strapped on their running knickers in preparation to run alongside.

  Our caretaker had also invited herself along. Not part of the plan, but at least she wasn't actively fighting it. Thankfully, our small group left before the chaos of the morning sufficiently settled. No one the wiser.

  My racing heart and excitement soon failed to hold back the consequences of my sleepless night. The rumbling droning of the carriage and the long journey didn't help matters much. I cuddled up against our caretaker—the fact I didn't know her name was starting to bother me—and promptly fell asleep.

  When I awoke, we still hadn't arrived. It was a fairly long journey. Especially since I guess Aarlas wasn't quite as fast as Sakra's four person personal carriage. We'd paused for a break and Aarlas and the soldiers had made lunch around a small campfire. To my surprise, barely a dozen feet ahead of us, the road suddenly turned icy over the space of a few steps.

  We were fed and watered, and then placed in the carriage while the adults... did whatever adults do. Talked I supposed. I didn't worry too much about it. They weren't about to turn back now.

  Akira had been uncharacteristically silent along the entire journey. Her large, intelligent eyes keeping track of everything, but offering little. Once we were alone in the carriage, she stole a furtive glance out the window, then sidled up to me.

  "Okay, Si. Take this," Akira fumbled with her dress and withdrew a foot long dagger. I blanched, but dutifully accepted the deadly implement. "This is our chance, Si. When I tell you, you gotta run. If they grab you, stab them until they stop."

  I nodded mutely, holding the sharp knife carefully. Akira nodded firmly, eyes hard as she showed me a second dagger, before hiding it back in her dress. She helped me hide my dagger in my shirt before our caretaker returned.

  Well. That... is suboptimal. Hopefully, Akira's 'plan' wouldn't be necessary.

  We arrived back home without any complications. I dozed again before we arrived and even Akira napped briefly, but Aarlas managed to trundle into the town square just before the sun set.

  "Papa!" Akira screamed before the carriage door was even fully open. She raced out into the snow, and smashed head first with her stunned father. A crowd had gathered in the square, with curious onlookers watching as my caretaker carried me out.

  Akira's mom, Mariera, moved to hug her, only for Akira to unleash a hellish screech.

  "No! Go away! I hate you!"

  Mariera flinched, and I sighed internally. Goddamnit, Akira. What now?

  Before I could contemplate this new development, I locked eyes with mom.

  "Silas!" she cried. A genuine smile split my lips, and a moment later I twisted my aura in happiness. I struggled mightily and was set down so I could toddle toward mom.

  She raced to me, fully intending to pick me up and squeeze the life out of me.

  Uh oh.

  I realized I had a sharp dagger tucked into my shirt, so hastily changed my trajectory. Mom faltered, a flash of worry racing through her aura, as I charged towards dad.

  "Papa!" I declared, drawing my sword. His aura flickered too fast for me to read as I offered him my blade. He aborted the picking up motion he was going to do and gently accepted the dagger. I projected happiness again, then turned and raced into my mom's arms.

  Gravity fell away as she accepted me into her chest. A moment later, dad's thick arms encircled us both. I smiled softly. For the first time in over a month I felt happy. Content. As if everything was right in the world again.

  "Excuse me?"

  The three of us turned in slow motion to my caretaker.

  "Are you Lira and Medlas? Parents of Silas?"

  "We are..." Dad said slowly.

  "I figured," my caretaker chuckled softly. "My name is Bellra—" Oh that's her name! "—Silas' caretaker back at Norgard. I was instructed to return him to his parents."

  Mom blinked, then bowed deeply. "Thank you."

  "From the bottom of our hearts," my father added.

  "My pleasure," Bellra nodded, keeping a surprisingly professional facade. This whole thing likely made little sense to her, but she handled it well. I was impressed.

  I was returned to the tight, silent hug from my parents, our auras flickering in lightning fast, emotional communication in lieu of less efficient words. Eventually, Bellra spoke to Akira's parents and the crowd dispersed. Aarlas and the others would return to Norgard in the morning and my parents had graciously offered to host Bellra and one of the soldiers.

  I let all that happen around me, content for the moment. But my gaze continuously returned to the skyline. To the distant horizon, where I knew a certain pair of spider-people would soon realize they'd been led around by the nose. And also a certain noble lady would soon be returning to a castle in chaos.

  This wasn't over, but the second battle would be easier.

  Mom and dad's dorsal braids encircled me in an all encompassing warmth that soaked into the sheets and filled me with strength.

  It would be easier. After all. This time, I had home field advantage.