Chương 59: Chapter 58: Youthful Wits

++Nervousness was another new, living sensation I had to adjust to. I felt it rarely, even after my second birth, but keenly whenever it emerged. Always in crucial times. Often, it served as the harbinger warning me that something I did had brought about a big change. ++ - From the writings of Isabel Vornholt, 'The Great Lich'. 1, 891 A. E. A week passed without incident, following my confrontation with my father. I will admit to being somewhat tense for the first few days.

He had been clearly shown my power, and I knew he understood it to be superior to his own. That did not mean he would not still defy me, however. In fact, given his disposition, I half-expected the display of superiority to inspire some new spasm of defiance from him. He always struck me as the sort to accept pain and risk rather than humiliation. But I was worrying in vain, because he kept his distance and did just as I had demanded.

Victoria was thrilled to be picking up her magical studies for that duration, and I will admit that I enjoyed teaching her. I had gotten the hang of this new, softer approach I took, and had actually started to turn it into a game for myself. Passing on knowledge without viciously beating my student every time they failed or irritated me was challenging enough to be rewarding with every session.

As I had thought before, Victoria's talent was not nearly on par with Agrian's, and of course it did not compare in the slightest to my own. That did not make her unimpressive though. We worked hard to compensate for her time spent neglecting the art of magic, then worked harder to raise her to new heights. It was on the seventh day since my father and I had our disagreement that Agrian entered, with Qaigor, in the middle of one of our training sessions.

The older boy had a broad grin on his face, while the younger seemed somewhat more uncertain.

"What is it?" I asked, impatient but knowing that it would only make things take longer if I showed off my irritation. Victoria, oddly enough, seemed far more annoyed than I was.

"Qaigor, show her." Qaigor hesitated, looked up at Agrian, suddenly less sure of himself.

"Show her," my older brother insisted. The younger one paused a brief moment more, then held out his hand. I saw mana dancing in it, and even saw actual light produced.

"How long has he been working at this?" I asked.

"Since the last time we visited," Agrian grinned.

"But he's only just managed to do it today, with my help of course. Genius at teaching seems to go along with general genius, eh?" I was too preoccupied with the child's magic to care about the teenager's bragging.

"What else can you do, Qaigor?" Qaigor seemed to be gaining confidence now, he grinned.

"More than Victoria!" That turned out to be entirely untrue, obviously, but the boy was doing about as well as Victoria had when she was comparably trained. Yet another example of borderline-impossible magic talent in the Vornholt family. In a perfect world, he would have gone on to study under me and perfected his powers to become yet another Vornholt magician-phenom. I did not live in a perfect world however, and somehow the Baron soon found out about his youngest son's new development.

Things went downhill sharply.

"Not him," my father snapped at once as I entered his study. I considered myself to be doing the man a favour by even answering his summons, so this was not a start to the conversation I appreciated.

"Qaigor, I assume?" I asked him.

"Yes Qaigor," he growled.

"Not my youngest son. I won't have him becoming a magician too, and you have no say in that, understand?" He stepped close now; not quite physically threatening me, not quite not physically threatening me. I let mana circulate beneath my skin until it glowed slightly, not quite magically threatening him, not quite not magically threatening him. He took half a step back.

"I am letting you train your sister," he said at last.

"I will not let you train Qaigor too. I have been more than fair, Isabel. More than fair. Do not ask this of me." There was a note of pleading there, and I enjoyed that very much. Violent people often get like that when encountering a yet greater violence than themselves, falling into step like whipped dogs. I had seen glimpses of it in my father from when I watched his interactions with aristocrats of greater wealth or standing, and I was seeing a more primal form now. Fear, the universal communicator.

Still, it was best not to push him too much.

"I understand," I said at last. He seemed surprised, then was back to being all business.

"You do." He said it like a statement, not a question, and I knew he expected a hitch. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

"I do," I confirmed.

"I imagine you want to train him as a warrior instead?"

"... Well, yes, ideally, though I'm not sure how talented he will be in that regard."

"Oh you do not know, of course. Warriors and magicians are the same kind of creature, the only difference is in how they train during childhood. Someone who does one cannot do the other, I believe. Qaigor could probably begin training his body and the mana within it will just cycle itself into the same fields as yours. His magical talent will be converted into warrior's talent over time." My father took a long pause, then poured himself a deep drink. Followed by several more.

"How do you know this?" he asked at last. I already had a lie prepared, naturally.

"I can just feel the way Qaigor and your bodies are working. Every time he runs around exerting himself, his mana is tweaking itself to move in that same way yours does."

"I have mana?" My father interjected. I feigned confusion.

"Yes, did you not know?" He took another drink.

"Have you told anyone else about this observation, Isabel?"

"No."

"Good," he nodded, relaxing somewhat.

"... Good. Don't, this would…it would make a lot of very powerful people very angry." I had expected as much. This was not something that only a person who saw mana could have worked out, the fact that I did not find it explicitly confirmed that warriors and magicians were of the same breed told me that some censorship was at play.

"Qaigor will train as a warrior then," my father sighed in relief as he sat back. He looked at me then, seeming hurt.

"Have you thought about…what happened when we last spoke? What you said?"

"Yes." I said nothing more, having nothing more to say.

"You…hurt me, Isabel. With magic."

"You hurt me with magic," I pointed out.

"I disciplined my child!"

"And I disciplined my father." He sat there, steaming and quivering with rage. I turned around and walked out, and he did not call me back again. Family gatherings in the Vornholt estate became frosty after that, which was just fine by me. My mother was the only point of annoyance; able to sense something between myself and my father, she was endlessly curious about what she seemed to think was some mundane falling out. My father, evidently, had not given her any details, and I did not either.

She would only complicate things if she found out. Earl Yilear seemed to notice something was the matter too, after a while. My father was the one who ended up resolving that surprisingly enough.

"Qaigor will be starting his training soon," he announced at breakfast. The table we ate at had always been excessively large, with potential room for dozens of people at once. Even with the Earl present with us, we all had plenty of space. It was almost impressive how cramped and claustrophobic everything started to feel once the conversation got going.

"Bit young, isn't he?" the Earl asked through a mouthful of eggs. I suspected that if Qaigor were Victoria's age, he would in fact be a bit old.

"He's old enough to hold a practice sword," my father said stiffly over his own eggs. I tried to ignore the pair. Unfortunately, the Earl was only just beginning his assault.

"Can you, Qaigor?" he asked the boy. Qaigor himself was obviously just confused by this.

"Don't know," he said, wolfing down bacon and seeming more annoyed to be interrupted in his meal than he was invested in the discussion.

"He doesn't know," the Earl echoed. The man said it as if it were some stroke of victory he was enjoying.

"Because he hasn't started training yet," my father shot back, taking the bait without a moment's hesitation.

"So you don't actually know he's old enough to hold a practice sword," the Earl hummed. Another mouthful of eggs in his mouth, he chewed them silent as a mouse. Aristocratic manners meant no mess while eating, and a double-meaning to every word out of your mouth.

"I know he can because he's my son and he's a strong lad," my father made an effort of turning that into his parting shot, moving back to focus on his own food.

"You're claiming you could hold a sword at his age?" the Earl sounded incredulous, obviously playing the emotion up.

"I see. That's…impressive." My father's fist came down on the table in a rage, splitting it in half. Food sprayed across it like a bomb had gone off underneath.

"That is it!" he snarled, halfway to his feet as my mother cried out.

"Agrian, the table! This has to be the fifth time!" Indeed, it was the fifth that I knew of, with the others being caused by him receiving unpleasant news while eating. Victoria and Agrian started snickering at the sight, while Qaigor laughed outright and began clapping.

"Again!" he yelled.

"Break it again father!" I attempted to focus back on my food one last time, then found that it was among the many casualties of my father's wrath.

"If you want to repeat the results of the last time you took it upon yourself to start training your children, by all means do so and turn my namesake into a male copy of your freak daughter." Oh dear, now he was insulting me. That, unfortunately, could not go unpunished. Nor could it go openly punished just yet. I tucked the slight away into a corner of my consciousness and listened in for more, pondering when I may get the chance to revenge myself upon the Earl.

Fortunately, for him more than me, breakfast ended before he could do much more to slander me. My mother was the most relieved at that out of us all.

"Thank you for the meal," I told the room at large as I began to head out. Agrian scurried after me, with Victoria and Qaigor following me and him respectively. Our grandfather halted the youngest.

"Qaigor," he called out.

"A word, my boy?"

"Qaigor can't," our father blurted out.

"We're training now." I happened to recall the Baron claiming he would be too busy with his work to see us for the rest of the day, and a glance at my mother showed me that she remembered that just as well. Neither of us said anything, of course. The Earl and Baron were already getting into another staring contest by the time I finally got out.

"You're walking like you have somewhere to be," Agrian observed. Victoria was still trailing after us, though she remained silent. I wish our older brother had learned that same ability.

"It is none of your concern," I told him.

"I'm coming with you," he shot back.

"No you are not."

"I'm coming with you or I'm telling mother and father." There was that tone in his voice, the one that always promised me an argument. I paused and turned.

"Why are you doing this?" I demanded him.

"Because you're my younger sister and it's my job to protect you." He did not even blink as I glared at him. I could have tried to deter him, but I knew Agrian well enough by now to know that it would be an uphill battle. Whether I won or lost, it would eat away at precious time.

"Very well, you can come with me," I sighed. Agrian tried not to smirk, though it was obvious enough he wanted to.

"I'm coming too!" Victoria demanded. Both of us glared down at her then.

"No," Agrian hurriedly said.

"Absolutely not," I declared. The girl's face split up into a wide grin at that.

"I'm coming," she repeated.

"Or I'm telling mother and father what you're both planning to do." We could have tried to deter her…