It was the eleventh day of the second month of spring, in the quiet hush of afternoon. Inside one of the many chambers of a sprawling estate, the cries of a woman in labor echoed down the candlelit halls. The air was frantic with maids rushing to and fro, while the mother sat upon the birthing bed, legs spread before the attending doctor. Sweat streamed down her glistening face, shimmering in the flicker of the lone candlelight on the nightstand.
At her side knelt her husband, clutching her hand with steadfast devotion, while their two children, a boy and a girl, stood close by. The boy had turned pale, looking as though he might faint at any moment, while his sister gripped her father's sleeve in anxious silence.
"Madam, you must push!" the doctor urged.
With tears spilling down her cheeks and summoning the last of her strength, the woman gave birth to a healthy child. Relief washed across her face as the newborn's cries filled the room.
"You did it, dear. It's over now," her husband whispered, kissing her brow.
"It's a boy!" the doctor declared, his tone bright with triumph.
The cord was cut, and a maid quickly wrapped the child in a soft blanket before placing him into his mother's eager arms.
"Whoa... his hair is black," the daughter exclaimed, her eyes fixed upon the baby's head, where soft strands of dark hair curled.
The father blinked in surprise. Each member of their family bore golden hair and bright blue eyes. He smiled faintly and said, "He reminds me of your mother, Celia."
Through gasps of exhaustion, the mother chuckled. "He does."
"Madam, may I record the child's name?" the doctor asked, quill and parchment already in hand.
"Erik," Celia answered, prompting her husband's face to break into a broad smile.
"Indeed! Erik Alexander Chamber, the newborn son of the Chamber dynasty."
The doctor carefully penned the name upon the birth record with elegant strokes before departing to deliver it to the capital. Outside, dusk settled over the Chamber estate, a proud manor set upon noble lands overlooking forests rich with game and wide meadows where paths stretched as far as the eye could see. From there, the road led west toward the grand city of Novergracia, capital of Highland, its massive stone walls standing guard over a realm of wealth and power.
The Chamber family was content and lived without worry, direct descendants of ducal blood. Their days were filled with ease: feasts of every kind, servants at their beck and call, and knights sworn to their defense. Horse handlers cared for the stables, chefs prepared lavish meals, and more than thirty maids tended the manor, overseen by a vigilant butler who kept the household in order.
It was little wonder, then, that when word spread of the newborn heir, the maids flocked to catch a glimpse of him. Abandoning their chores, they crowded at the nursery door until Celia, laughing warmly, waved them closer.
"You girls," she teased, her voice as gentle as her smile. "Come, come, gather around."
She was in the midst of nursing Erik when the maids peered in, gazing adoringly at the tiny boy.
"He is so adorable."
"Ah, so precious!"
They laughed softly and swooned without daring to touch.
"This reminds me," Celia said with a knowing smile. "Erik will need a nanny to raise him."
The maids glanced at one another, each eager to volunteer, though they hushed their voices for fear of startling the infant. Celia looked down at her child with affection.
"It would be difficult to choose among so many. Perhaps the youngest among you would be best, to remain with him as he grows to manhood."
A murmur passed through the group until one voice said, "Methinks that would be Nomay."
"Indeed," another agreed. "She has been here but a month."
"Nomay?" Celia asked.
"Yes, madam." A girl stepped forward. She was fifteen, newly of age, with fair skin, dark hair, and a slender figure that suggested a life of modest meals.
"Perfect. If you are willing, I entrust Erik's care to you."
Nomay's eyes shone with delight. "I would be honored, madam. I shall not disappoint you!"
From that day, Nomay was appointed as Erik's nursemaid. She cared for him with diligence and devotion, learning quickly from the elder nannies how to change his wrappings, feed him, and lay him to rest. Erik, however, proved unusually quiet. He seldom cried except when soiled, and he fell asleep the moment he was placed in his crib.
At first, the family thought him a mother's dream, a well-behaved miracle of a child. But Nomay, who spent every hour at his side, could not shake the thought that he was something more.
One afternoon, as she tidied the nursery, she noticed Erik sitting calmly amidst a scatter of toys. He did not play with them, nor so much as glance at them.
"Erik?" she called softly.
The boy flinched, then turned toward her, rolling over and crawling across the floor. Nomay's breath caught.
"Oh my..." She lifted him into her arms, gazing at him in wonder. His hair had grown thick and dark, and his sapphire eyes, deeper than any of his kin, shone with startling clarity. "You are so adorable," she whispered, smiling as she wiggled her finger before him. Yet he gave little response. "Ah... time for your nap."
He was docile, quiet, easy to tend. He ate without fuss, slept without protest, and seldom cried. He did not laugh or babble like most children, yet he thrived, healthy in body if peculiar in spirit. Seasons passed, and as he grew, Nomay's affection for him deepened, as though he were her own child.
Three years passed as swiftly as a fleeting shadow, and Erik had grown into a silent yet endearing toddler. Even at three, he remained strangely reserved, his cold, distant gaze unbefitting of one so young. At times, his parents had wondered if he were blind or deaf, but the family physician assured them he was perfectly healthy. Still, Nomay stayed faithfully at his side, guiding him through the world. Though quiet and solitary, Erik was endlessly curious, his eyes often lingering on new wonders with quiet fascination.
Outside the manor, the double doors opened onto a wide stone porch, polished smooth by generations of footsteps. On one side, neatly trimmed bushes clung to the manor's walls, their leaves brushing against the cold stone, on the other, the greenery pressed snugly between the manor and the low wooden fencing of the horse enclosure, where the family's prized steeds grazed and pawed at the earth. It was clear they were left to grow wildly and were untended because of the difficulty in accessing the area, with even a tree branching off in the enclosed area. Its shade offered a place for the horses to rest out of the heat.
A winding cobblestone pathway stretched from the porch, curving past the bushes and leading toward the cobblestone walls at the far edge of the estate, where a brick well stood nearby. Beyond them lay the forest where the men would hunt for game, its bucket and rope worn smooth from years of use. Here and there, simple benches and stone planters broke the expanse of green, while a few low hedges formed quiet nooks where servants might pause to rest or share a whispered word. Birds flitted among the trees at the pasture's edge, their songs drifting toward the manor, blending with the distant clatter of hooves from the stables.
In this sunlit expanse, Erik's elder brother, Oliver, played knights with some of the other servant children, with Oliver's loyal companion, a large dog with golden hair, running alongside them as they battled in the grass, laughter and barking ringing across the field. Their small hands clutched wooden swords. Oliver was six years older than Erik and was a compassionate and energetic young lad.
His sister, Noesse, was only five years older, and rather than playing with the boys, she sat at a table with their mother, her lady-in-waiting, and a few female servants, all of whom were engaged in conversation.
While his siblings would spend their time in the outside air, Erik would remain inside to read, something that Nomay was helping him to learn through children's story books. She sat with him in her lap as she held up a book of a called The Boastful Hare. Already, Erik was at that age that he was able to speak, but unlike others his age, Erik was able to speak clearly. "Hare."
"Yes, very good, Erik," Nomay congratulated him. "You are so smart! Do you know what this word is?" she asked.
"Run," he answered, continuing to read out loud the words Nomay pointed to in momentary pause. "Fast. Fleet. Foot. Catch. Leap."
"To think you can read so well already. You are truly gifted, young master."
Perhaps it was at that moment that Erik began to develop a drive to further his skills academically, being praised as he was from such a young age after every small success. He continued to read and speak more, learning more words and even learning how to write. The language of the kingdom and many other kingdoms that bordered Highland, was called Common, of course, the commonfolk spoke Common, with the upper echelon of society speaking High-Common, merely for spectacle. At the age of four, Erik was able to write to the point of perfection, until deciding to suddenly start writing with his left hand and beginning from scratch. At every instance, Nomay and his mother would praise him, and though he would show not a hint of a smile, he would continue to study.
By no means did his intelligence go unnoticed, with his grandfather, especially, taking an interest in his development. "Erik, my boy!!" his grandfather would practically throw him up with his hands, an eager smile on his face, happy to see his grandchild. "You have gotten fatter!! You are eating well I take it." Erik's grandfather, Count Henry Codux of Whimsicott, in Cezarch, was a wise and thoughtful man who had a love for tinkering. He and his wife, Erik's grandmother, Parecia, would come to visit every winter, staying the whole duration to spend time with their beloved daughter and grandchildren. The third winter, Henry brought a special toy that he gave Erik. "My boy, what do you think of this?" he asked, holding in his hands a small wooden owl.
"An owl," Erik responded.
"Yes, yes. You are so smart!" he laughed boastfully. "This is a special owl, though, you see." He turned it around to show a key in its back, at which after momentarily, he twisted and turn to have the toy move. Erik's eyes widened in wonder.
The wooden owl flapped its wings clumsily, turning its head and back, both ways. Erik leaned closer, his wide eyes following every jerky motion as though he were witnessing magic itself.
Count Henry chuckled warmly. "Here, a gift, Erik," he tapped the key lightly with his finger. "This is the wonder of craft, of clever hands and sharper minds."
Nomay, standing nearby, smiled at the sight of Erik's fascination. But the boy's parents exchanged a glance, both curious and a little unsettled at how intently their son studied the contraption. For Erik, however, the moment was a spark. He reached forward at last, grasping the owl with chubby fingers, holding it close as though it were a treasure beyond price.
"Mine," he whispered, the word soft but certain.
Henry roared with laughter, his great booming voice echoing through the manor's hall. "Aye, yours it is, Erik! And may it remind you, my boy, that the mind is the sharpest sword of all!"
His grandfather's gift was the match.
To the outside world, Erik was nothing more than a child playing with a toy, but at one's closer inspection, he was studying. The toy was purely mechanical, as he would hold it up to his ear to hear the sound of clicking, that stopped upon the stillness of the owl.
Nomay sat in knitting a blanket from afar, unable to see exactly what Erik was doing as his back was turned to her. Hearing the sound of babbling, she stopped what she was doing to see what Erik was so vocal for. As she approached him from behind, looking over his head, she called out to him, "Erik? What are you doing?" As she saw clearly the blood, the mess, that he had made, she was startled. Immediately, she rushed to her knees at his side. "Erik!!"
She found that he had broken the toy owl, having pried it open with his fingers and nails to the point that he had torn the skin. On the carpet before him, lay the gears and pieces of the toy, scattered about. She felt her heart shudder in her ribcage, like the sound of a crow's wingbeat, it prompted her to quickly rush him to be treated.
Though Nomay was in a panic, the other maids were far more calm, even amused. "Calm yourself, Nomay. The children get hurt all the time. The best thing you can do is be calm, and quickly tend to the wound." an older maid explained.
The wounds on Erik's small hands were minor and bandaged within minutes. At most, he reeled from the sting of alcohol, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes, but he was otherwise calm.
"I want my owl," Erik told her.
"Your owl? You mean your toy?"
"Yes."
"Oh..." Nomay grimaced. "Well, Erik... I am afraid it is broken."
"Broken? Why?"
"You... Broke it, Erik."
"I broke it?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Nomay chuckled awkwardly. "I don't know."
"Can I heal it?"
"Heal it? I... Will have to see."
Nomay thought about it, but after returning to the nursery to find the many small pieces in total disarray, she ultimately decided to disturb Count Henry, in hopes he may have a better understanding. Count Henry was rather amused by the news of little Erik's actions, investigating the wreckage of scattered pieces he placed upon the table with peculiarity. "Oh my..." he uttered.
"Is it bad, sir?"
"Bad? Oh, I have the faintest clue. I was merely wondered by the inner makings of that mechanic toy. It was made by gnomes. They are rather skilled in their craft. Erik, my boy..." he turned to his grandson, sitting on the couch next to the table. "Why did you take apart your toy? Did you not like it?"
"I like it," he responded. "I wanted to see the inside."
Henry's brow lifted, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin. "The inside, is it? Hah! Most children tear their toys apart in boredom, or anger. But you… you wanted to see." He leaned closer to the boy, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. "That is the mark of a mind that hungers, Erik. Not for sweets, not for playthings, but for understanding."
Parecia, who had been quietly sipping her tea at the far end of the parlor, gave her husband a wary glance. "He is only a child, Henry. Curiosity is one thing, but bloodied hands for the sake of gears and cogs?"
Henry waved the concern aside with a booming laugh. "Nonsense! Every inventor bleeds for their discoveries. I myself burned these fingers on steam and fire more times than I can count before I ever made a single clock tick." He held up his calloused hands as if to prove the point.
Erik did not follow the movements of his grandfather's hands, instead, remaining his still gaze on the scattered pieces. "I can put it back together?"
He said near bluntly, as though it were a question but also not at the same time.
"Indeed, you can, my boy," he ruffled Erik's hair, just before turning to leave in asking. "Now, what is for dinner?"
"Huh?" Nomay was confused. "Sir, are you not going to fix it?"
"Me? Fix it?" Henry paused. "No, leave him to do that. It would be beneficial to allow him to learn how to, rather than do it for him or buy him a new one. A valuable life lesson, you may call it."
Count Henry left proudly, believing Erik would be able to learn much and possibly even come close to fixing the toy within the coming days, something that would keep him busy for that long, if not longer. However, much to his surprise, Nomay would bring Erik in her arms to see the count in his room, with Countess Parecia, laying in the bed beside him. It was late at night, with the bedside candles still lit. "Nomay, why is this little one still up?" Parecia asked, lifting her eyes off of her novel.
"Pardon me, madam, sir, but the young lord would not rest before showing you."
"Oh?" Nomay brought Erik closer, with Erik showing off the toy owl, fully intact in his hands. Henry opened his eyes wider in shock. "Oh my... Have you fixed it?" he asked as he took it to see if it would still move. It did, functioning just as it did before as though it were never taken apart to begin with. "It has only been a few hours, my word. Erik, did you do this?"
"Yes." he answered.
"How ever did you achieve this?"
"I put everything back."
"Everything back? So easily...?" Henry's suspicions began to grow. "Do you remember where everything went?"
"Yes."
Henry's suspicions began to grow. "I see..." He pondered momentarily, considering a means to truly test his grandson, but as it was late, he decided it would be better to send them off to bed. "You should go to bed now, Erik. You mustn't neglect your rest."
"Yes, thank you, Sir Henry." Nomay said with a nod of her head, taking Erik away. All the while, Erik's focus remained on his toy. As he was being carried through the hallway, he turned the key in the owl and it began to move yet again. His eyes fixated on it.
At the time, Nomay dismissed Erik's fascination as nothing more than the harmless curiosity of a gifted child, a mind that needed only patience and nurturing, but that belief would soon be shaken. Weeks later, with the thaw of spring granting Erik freedom to play outdoors, Nomay once again found his small hands slick with blood.
"Young master-?" Her words broke into a gasp, followed by a shrill cry that caught in her throat. The horror on her face was fleeting; she turned away almost at once, unable to bear the sight of the blood, and of the small animal Erik had split open with a rock; one of the estate's chickens.
"Nomay," his clear, childish voice called out to her. Yet, from behind, it sounded cold and void of emotion, sending a chill up her spine. "Why did it stop moving? I put the pieces back."