"I want to travel the world, Mother," I repeated. This time, my voice was firmer. "I want to see with my own eyes the places you read to me about from books. I want to meet other mages, other warriors, other cultures. I want to truly learn, not just from hearsay."
Mother set the cup down on the table with a slow, deliberate motion. She leaned back in her chair and studied me for a long moment, as if seeing me for the first time.
"You are seven years old, Aito," she said at last. "The world is a dangerous place."
"I know," I replied without hesitation. "That's why I've trained so hard. That's why I want to become stronger. So I can face those dangers when the time comes."
"And you think that with seven years of age and three years of training, you're ready to face the world?"
"No," I admitted. "But if I wait until I'm ready, I'll never leave. Because no one is ever completely ready. I learned that from the books too. Heroes don't wait until they're invincible to begin their journey; they become invincible during the journey."
Mother raised an eyebrow. A tiny, almost imperceptible smile danced on her lips.
"And since when has my little Aito become so philosophical?"
"Ever since you started reading me all those stories," I replied, and this time I did smile. "You made me this way, Mother. You awakened my curiosity. Now I can't extinguish it."
She sighed, and in that sigh there was weariness, but also pride. The pride of a mother who watches her child grow, who sees her own teachings reflected in him.
"If you left now," she said, "you wouldn't last a week."
"I know."
"You'd be kidnapped, killed, or you'd get lost and starve to death in some forest."
"I know that too."
"And I would spend the rest of my life searching for you, mourning you, cursing myself for letting you go."
That sentence hurt me. It hurt more than any of Zekin's blows, more than any fall during training.
"That's why I won't leave without your permission, Mother," I said, and my eyes grew slightly moist. "That's why I'm asking you. Because I don't want you to suffer. Because you're the most important person to me."
Silence returned. But this time it was different. It was a silence heavy with emotion, with unspoken things, with love and fear and hope all mingled together.
Mother rose from her chair and approached me. She knelt to my height, and with a gentle hand, she caressed my cheek.
(You are a special child, Aito Greymont. I've always known it, from the first day I saw you in that cradle, with those golden eyes looking at me as if you'd known me forever. Even though you're not of my blood... even though you didn't grow in my womb... I love you as much as I love Eliel and Calithia. And just thinking about what could happen to you... that I could lose you... I can't bear it, son. Don't make me suffer like that.)
Her eyes grew moist, and for an instant, I saw my mother not as the strong, unshakeable queen she always showed the world, but as a woman, a mother, with fears and weaknesses like anyone else.
"Mother..." I whispered, gently pulling her from her trance.
She blinked, and the tears threatening to spill retreated. She took a deep breath and composed herself, though her hand continued stroking my cheek with infinite tenderness.
"Let me think," she said, her voice firmer now. "This isn't something I can decide lightly. I'll talk with your father, with Zekin, with Eliel if necessary. This affects all of us."
I nodded, my heart pounding strongly. The simple fact that she hadn't said "no" immediately was more than I had hoped for.
"But..." she said, and my breath caught. "But I promise I will consider it seriously. Because I see you, Aito. I see you growing, I see you striving, I see you improving every day. And I know a time will come when this palace will become too small for you. I only hoped that time would come a little later."
She hugged me. A warm, protective embrace, the kind only mothers know how to give. She wrapped her arms around me, and for an instant I was a baby again, protected from the world, safe from all danger.
"Give me time," she whispered against my hair. "Give me time to get used to the idea that my little one wants to fly."
I closed my eyes and hugged her back with all my strength. I could feel her heart beating against mine, two heartbeats synchronized in the same rhythm.
"Thank you, Mother," I whispered. "Thank you for listening to me."
The sun continued to shine, the flowers continued to perfume the air, and the birds continued to sing. But something had changed. A door had opened, even if just a crack. And through that crack, I was determined to slip when the time came.
Three more years, I thought. Or maybe four. But when I'm strong enough, when I've learned enough, I'll leave. And I'll see the world with my own eyes.
With my mother's permission, of course.
---
That night, when Mother came to read me a story, I chose the book myself. Not one about legendary mages, not one about ancient heroes.
I chose a book on geography. On maps. On distant places and unknown cultures.
"Are you sure?" Mother asked, surprised. "This isn't an adventure story."
"All adventure stories begin with a map," I replied. "I want to know the world before I set foot in it."
Mother smiled, a sad and proud smile all at once, and began to read.
"The Kingdom of the Golden Plains," she read, "known for its endless wheat fields and its riders, the finest on the entire continent. It is said their horses are as swift as the wind..."
And as her voice filled the room with names of distant cities, of endless rivers, of mountains that touched the sky, I closed my eyes and imagined them.
I saw the golden plains swaying in the wind. I saw the riders galloping at impossible speeds. I saw the snow-capped mountains and the burning deserts and the impenetrable jungles.
I felt them. I dreamed them.
And I knew, with absolute certainty, that one day I would set foot on them.
One day.
---
The following morning
The sun was just beginning to rise when I arrived at the training hall. I liked arriving early, before anyone else, to feel the empty space, to listen to the silence before it filled with the clash of swords.
But today I wasn't alone.
Lilia was already there, sitting on one of the stones bordering the courtyard, legs crossed, a flower between her fingers. She toyed with it absently, twirling the stem again and again, lost in thought.
"Good morning, Lilia," I said as I entered.
She looked up and smiled. That smile of hers, soft and calm, that always managed to make the world seem a kinder place.
"Good morning, Aito," she replied. "You're early today."
"I'm always early," I said, laughing softly. "You're the one who's never here at this hour."
"Today I wanted to see you," she said, and then her cheeks tinted with a slight blush. "I mean... I wanted to see everyone. You and Calithia. And my grandfather, of course."
I smiled and sat down beside her. For a while, we didn't speak. We just sat there, watching the sun finish its ascent and paint the sky in shades of gold.
"Hey, Aito," Lilia said after a moment. "Is it true you want to travel the world?"
I looked at her, surprised.
"How did you know?"
"My grandfather mentioned it last night. He said the Queen had come to speak with him." She paused, and her gaze drifted to the horizon. "Is it true?"
"Yes," I replied. "I asked her yesterday."
"And what did she say?"
"That she'd think about it. That she'd talk with Father, with your grandfather, with Eliel."
Lilia nodded slowly. Then, in a voice so low I could barely hear her, she said:
"I want to travel too, sometimes. See other places. See other things. But I'm afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
She shrugged.
"Afraid of getting lost. Afraid something bad will happen. Afraid of leaving my grandfather alone."
"Your grandfather is strong," I said. "He can take care of himself."
"I know. But..." she sighed. "I don't know how to explain it."
We were about to continue talking, but at that moment we heard approaching footsteps. It was Calithia, entering the courtyard with her usual energy, but when she saw us together, her expression suddenly changed.
"Good morning, Aito," she said, in a strange tone I couldn't identify. "How are you?"
"Uh... good morning, Sister," I replied, confused by her sudden change in attitude. "I'm fine, and you?"
But she didn't answer me. Instead, she looked at Lilia, who was still sitting beside me with the flower in her hand.
"What are you two doing here alone?" she asked, and her voice had an edge I'd never heard before.
"Hello, Calithia," Lilia said naturally, as if she noticed nothing strange. "Good morning."
"Good morning, Lilia," my sister replied, forcing a smile. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, thank you," Lilia replied. "You're here to train, right?"
"That's right," Calithia said, crossing her arms. "But you're not here to train, are you?"
"Ah, no, I'm not here for that," Lilia said, shaking her head.
"I see," my sister replied, in a tone I couldn't interpret. "I understand."
There was an awkward silence. Well, awkward for me. They seemed to be having a completely different conversation with just their looks.
"And Master Zekin," Calithia asked, breaking the silence. "Where is he?"
"My grandfather said he's on his way," Lilia replied. "Don't worry, he'll be here soon."
"All right," Calithia said, beginning to stretch her arms. "I'll warm up a bit then."
And without another word, she moved to the center of the courtyard, starting her warm-up exercises.
I don't know why, but that brief, short conversation didn't seem like one between two people who've known each other for years. It was... strange. As if there were layers of meaning I couldn't see.
That's my sister for you, I thought. She's a mystery; you never know what she's thinking.
I hope Lilia isn't upset or hurt by it. But seriously, what's wrong with my big sister?
Good thing she can't read minds, or I'd be in serious trouble with her.
Wait.
What...?