7

A year blurred into a whirlwind of tiny hands, babbling voices, and the comforting chaos of a growing family. The Wolflace farm had transformed. Where once stood quiet fields, now a small garden flourished, tended to by Kuina during her moments of rest. Lael, though still occasionally called away on guild business, made a concerted effort to be present, often found playfully wrestling with Soyer and Sage in the wheat fields. Aerith had long since returned to her own town, leaving behind a legacy of expertly crafted tools, a subtly improved farmhouse and not too shabby apprentice in Julian.

The decision hadn’t been easy. It weighed heavily on both Kuina and Lael, a knot of guilt and apprehension tightening in their chests. Julian’s seventh birthday had just passed, marked by a small family dinner and a beautifully carved wooden bear gifted by Lael to join his collection of the wood wolf, soldier and horse...

But beneath the surface of the festivities lay a growing concern. Julian’s potential was… unusual. His aptitude for smithing was remarkable for a boy his age, exceeding even Aerith’s expectations. But it was the subtle displays of power – the accidental bending of metal without hardship, the ease in swordplay, harnessing the wind and calling fire and water to his very fingertips – that truly worried them that he would need far more hands on training than what they could currently provide whilst looking after twin one year olds.

"...your younger sister?"

Julian asked skeptically. He'd apprenticed under his aunt Aerith in black smithing for just under a year. But he knew she was the older sister to his mother. So the younger must be another aunt he had yet to meet.

Kuina sighed, running a hand through her silky white hair. Lael stood beside her, his expression grim.

“Yes, my younger sister, Thaline.”

Kuina confirmed, her voice laced with a hint of defensiveness.

“She’s… quite a bit different than Aerith. She’s still actively adventuring, a Captain of the Royal Dragoons in the capital.”

Julian's green eyes narrowed. The capitol? That was where his sister Eira was actively attending the academy of Ad Laera. Whereas he would just be shipped off to live with the crazy misunderstood aunt. Joy.

"I'm not going."

He said quietly.

Lael’s jaw tightened. He’d anticipated this reaction, but it didn’t make it any easier.

“Julian.”

He began, his voice firm but gentle.

“This isn’t a request. It’s for your own good.”

The boy immediately bolted out of the kitchen, the wind picking up around his feet as he tried to launch into the air outside the porch exit. Before Julian could even fully gather momentum, Kuina moved with a speed that belied her ex-adventurering years. Her hand shot out, clamping around his small ankle with a grip that was unsurprisingly strong. He stumbled, the nascent wind around his feet dissipating as his attempt at flight was abruptly halted. He landed heavily, but Kuina held firm, preventing him from fully escaping. Her expression wasn’t angry, but resolute, her blue eyes filled with a sorrowful determination.

Kuina didn’t say a word, simply pulled Julian into a tight, smothering hug. He could feel the warmth of her body, the familiar scent of wildflowers and hearth smoke clinging to her clothes. It was a gesture of pure, **** affection, a mother’s attempt to convey all the unspoken anxieties and love she felt. He could feel the subtle tremor in her frame, a silent expression of her own distress. She held him for a long moment, burying her face in his hair, as if trying to memorize every detail of his small form.

The sound of a carriage rattled through the quiet farm, the wheels crunching on the dirt path as it approached. Julian, still enveloped in his mother’s embrace, heard his father grunt under his breath, a sound that held a mixture of resignation and apprehension.

"Speak of the she-devil and she shall appear..."

Lael left the kitchen, his broad shoulders slumped slightly as he headed towards the front of the farmhouse to greet his sister-in-law. Through the open window, Julian could see a sleek, black carriage drawn by two powerful, dark horses. It was far more ornate than any vehicle he’d seen in their small village, a clear indication of Thaline’s status and wealth.

Before Julian could struggle free, Kuina’s movements were swift and precise. She subtly shifted her grip, applying gentle but firm pressure to a pressure point at the base of his neck. It wasn't a forceful attack, but a carefully calculated maneuver honed from years of experience as an S-Ranked Adventurer. Julian’s struggles immediately ceased, his muscles relaxing as darkness descended. He slumped against his mother, **** in her arms. Kuina held him securely, her expression a complex mixture of sorrow and grim determination. It was a harsh decision, but she believed it was the only way to ensure a smoother transition, to prevent a prolonged and emotionally draining struggle.

Thaline strode past Lael with an air of commanding authority, her gaze sweeping over the farmhouse with a critical eye. Her armor, polished to a gleaming sheen, hinted at her position within the Dragoons. A longsword was strapped to her hip, its hilt intricately carved with the image of a dragon.

“Where’s the kid?”

She questioned, her voice sharp and impatient, cutting through the quiet farm air. She didn’t bother with pleasantries, her focus solely on the task at hand. Lael, visibly taken aback by her brusque manner, gestured towards the kitchen.

“Kuina has him. He… he wasn’t thrilled about the arrangement.”

Thaline’s lips curled into a sardonic smile, her gaze hardening as she fixed Lael with a pointed stare.

“I wasn’t thrilled about your arrangement to marry my sister either, but here we are.”

Thaline retorted, her voice dripping with thinly veiled disapproval. She swept past Lael and entered the kitchen, her boots clicking sharply on the wooden floor.

Thaline’s presence filled the small kitchen, radiating an aura of power and efficiency. Julian, still **** in Kuina’s arms, was barely a thought to her as she surveyed the room with a critical eye. It was impossible to deny the uncanny family resemblance between the Sato sisters. Kuina, Thaline and Aerith all shared the same snow-white hair, a striking contrast to their vibrant features. But Thaline… Thaline possessed a captivating allure. Her eyes, like polished obsidian, glittered with an intensity that was both mesmerizing and unsettling. They held a depth of experience, a hint of ruthlessness, that set her apart from her more gentle sisters.

Despite her harsh demeanor, Thaline moved with a surprising gentleness as she approached Kuina. She crouched down, her armor clinking softly, and carefully scooped Julian’s **** form into her arms. It was a stark contrast to the commanding presence she’d displayed moments before. The tenderness in her touch, the way she cradled him close, suggested a hidden vulnerability, a softer side reserved for those she held dear – a privilege typically extended only to her sisters.

Kuina’s voice was barely a whisper, laced with a mixture of anxiety and hope. She reached out, her hand trembling slightly as she brushed a strand of white hair away from Julian's face.

“Thals… take care of my boy, you hear?”

She murmured gently, her icy gaze fixed on Thaline’s face, searching for any sign of reassurance. It wasn’t a demand, but a plea, a mother entrusting her most precious possession to a sister she clearly didn’t fully want to relinquish her son to.

Thaline met Kuina’s gaze, her obsidian eyes softening slightly. A flicker of something akin to empathy crossed her face, quickly masked by her usual stoicism.

“Of course.”

Thaline replied, her voice losing some of its earlier edge.

“He’ll be well-guarded. The capital is far safer than this… rustic setting.”

She glanced around the kitchen with a subtle air of disdain before turning her attention back to Julian.

“He’ll have the best tutors, the finest care. He’ll be prepared for a life befitting his… potential...”

~

A dull ache throbbed behind Julian’s eyes as consciousness slowly returned. He blinked, disoriented, and slowly realized he was no longer in his mother’s arms, nor in the familiar surroundings of the farmhouse. He was lying on plush, leather-clad seating, the gentle rocking motion indicating he was traveling in a carriage. The interior was richly appointed, a stark contrast to the simple furnishings he was used to. Looking around, he estimated several hours had passed since the incident with his mother and aunt. Thaline sat opposite him, her expression unreadable as she meticulously cleaned a dagger with a soft cloth. The rhythmic 'shink' of the blade against the pocket sized sharpening stone was the only sound breaking the silence.

A wave of unease washed over Julian, quickly followed by a simmering anger. His brow furrowed, the muscles tightening as he struggled to reconcile the last fragmented memories with his current situation. He was 'taken'. Kidnapped, essentially, by his aunt. The injustice of it, the violation of his free will, ignited a fierce resentment within him—a feeling amplified by the lingering echoes of his past life, the memories of a university student robbed of his full ride academic future. He clenched his small fists, fighting to suppress the surge of magical energy that threatened to erupt from within. He needed to understand what was happening, and why.

Thaline didn’t look up from her task, but her voice, though quiet, cut through Julian’s rising frustration.

“Breathe.”

Thaline murmured, her tone devoid of emotion. She continued to methodically sharpen the dagger, seemingly unconcerned with Julian’s internal turmoil.

“Uncontrolled outbursts will achieve nothing. Save your energy. We have several weeks on this journey back to the captial. So learn to get used to me.”

The carriage continued its steady progress, the landscape outside a blur of green fields and distant forests. It was clear Thaline wasn’t interested in a conversation, at least not yet. She was simply observing him, assessing his reaction, perhaps gauging the extent of his… growing abilities. The air within the carriage was thick with tension, a silent battle of wills unfolding between the stoic Dragoon and the seven-year-old boy harboring the soul of a twenty-five-year-old man.

Julian, despite his internal turmoil, **** himself to obey. He took a deep, shuddering breath, attempting to regain some semblance of control. It was difficult, fighting against the instinctive urge to lash out, to demand answers. But Thaline was right—a tantrum would achieve nothing. He needed to be strategic, to understand his situation before revealing too much of his abilities.

"Can you read boy?"

Thaline murmured.

Thaline finally paused in her sharpening, her obsidian eyes locking onto Julian’s. The question wasn’t a polite inquiry, but a challenge, a test of his intellect. She didn't bother with pleasantries or softening her tone. It was a direct assessment, devoid of warmth.

Julian blinked, taken aback by the abrupt question. It was a strange thing to ask, especially considering his age. He could feel Thaline probing him, searching for a reaction, trying to gauge his intelligence. He decided to answer honestly, but with a touch of defiance.

"I can read."

He grit out.

A flicker of something – perhaps surprise, perhaps satisfaction – crossed Thaline’s face, though it was gone so quickly it was almost imperceptible. She resumed sharpening the dagger, the rhythmic 'shink' filling the silence once more.

Julian’s small hands moved awkwardly through his tangled, snow-white hair, attempting to tame the wild mess. It was a futile effort. The strands stubbornly refused to cooperate, remaining disheveled and chaotic, a reflection of the turmoil within him. He ran a hand over his long strands, trying to smooth down the mess, but it only seemed to exacerbate the problem. He glanced up, catching Thaline’s gaze. She hadn’t offered any assistance, hadn’t even acknowledged his struggle. It was clear she wasn’t interested in his comfort or appearance, only in his… potential.

A low rumble emanated from Julian’s stomach, a loud and embarrassing protest against the hours that had passed since his last meal. His cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and discomfort. He tried to ignore it, to focus on controlling his emotions, but the gnawing hunger quickly became impossible to dismiss. It was a basic, primal need, and it threatened to undermine his carefully constructed composure. The scent of leather and polished metal in the carriage did little to appease his growing appetite.

"If you're hungry, hunt something."

Thaline instructed coldly.

Thaline’s words were delivered with characteristic bluntness, devoid of any concern for Julian’s well-being or comfort. It wasn’t an offer of food, but a challenge, a test of his capabilities. She didn’t even bother to offer him a weapon or guidance—simply a cold, stark instruction.

Julian scrambled to his feet, finding his small legs surprisingly steady despite the lingering ache in his arm. He noticed he was already shod in a pair of sturdy, albeit crude, leather boots - a thoughtful precaution likely taken by his mother. Without a second thought, or any discernible plan, he leaped from the carriage and bolted towards the dense treeline, driven by a **** need to escape the oppressive atmosphere within and satisfy the gnawing emptiness in his stomach. The forest floor was soft with fallen leaves and damp earth, the air cool and fragrant with the scent of pine and damp wood. He plunged into the shadows, the carriage and Thaline’s cold gaze disappearing behind him.

The deeper Julian ventured into the woods, the darker it became. Sunlight struggled to penetrate the thick canopy above, casting long, dancing shadows that played tricks on his eyes. He quickly realized that hunting with no weapon or training was a fool’s errand, but the hunger gnawed at him, fueling his **** search. Then, instinctively, almost without conscious thought, a small ball of shimmering, azure flame materialized in the palm of his hand. It pulsed with a gentle warmth, illuminating the immediate surroundings with an ethereal glow. He held it cautiously, marveling at its beauty and power, a formidable skill that not many adventurers had nowadays. The flame didn’t burn his skin, but radiated a soothing energy, casting the forest floor in a cool, blue light. He continued his search, the magical light guiding his way.

Unbeknownst to Julian, Thaline hadn’t remained in the carriage. With a grace that belied her heavy armor, she had moved with astonishing speed and silence, disappearing into the trees. Now, she moved through the forest canopy with the ease of a seasoned hunter, her movements fluid and precise. She blended seamlessly with the shadows, masking her presence with practiced skill, an unseen observer watching Julian’s every move from above. Her obsidian eyes narrowed as she witnessed the boy conjure the ball of azure flame, a flicker of something akin to interest crossing her stoic face. It seemed the child possessed more than met the eye. She remained hidden, a silent sentinel, waiting to see what he would do next.

After what felt like an eternity of wandering, Julian stumbled upon a small, clear stream. But this was no ordinary stream. The water shimmered with an otherworldly luminescence, and within its depths swam fish of enormous size, their scales radiating a soft, ethereal glow. They were unlike anything he’d ever seen, even in his past life - their bodies were elongated and sleek, their fins translucent and shimmering with iridescent colors. The air around the stream hummed with a faint magical energy, a palpable sense of wonder and mystery. It was a hidden sanctuary, a pocket of enchantment tucked away within the depths of the forest. He stared in awe, his hunger momentarily forgotten. These weren’t merely fish; they were creatures born of magic itself.

Driven by the primal urge to satisfy his gnawing hunger, Julian didn't hesitate. Without a moment's thought for caution or consequence, he launched himself headfirst into the shimmering stream. The icy water stole his breath for a moment, but his instincts quickly took over. He spotted one of the glowing fish, its massive form gliding gracefully through the water, and without a second thought, he thrust his hand forward, slamming the ball of azure flame directly into its head.

The impact was instantaneous and devastating. The glowing fish convulsed violently, its radiant scales dimming as the magical flame disrupted its life ****. It died instantly, its massive body sinking momentarily before floating to the surface. Julian, shivering from the icy chill of the water, struggled to drag the heavy creature onto the bank. It was a monumental effort for a boy of his size, his small muscles straining with the weight. He finally managed to haul it onto the muddy shore, collapsing beside it, breathless and soaked to the bone. The fish, even in ****, radiated a faint, otherworldly glow, illuminating his shivering form. He had food, but the cost felt…wrong. A strange emptiness settled within him, a feeling he couldn’t quite place.

Before Julian could fully process the unsettling feeling, a figure descended from the trees with silent grace. Thaline landed lightly on the bank, her boots barely making a sound on the damp earth. She didn't speak, didn't offer a word of praise or condemnation. Instead, she simply raised a hand, and a wave of chilling energy washed over Julian. It wasn't cold, exactly, but a draining sensation that seemed to pull the very moisture from his clothes, leaving him instantly dry and shivering even more violently. The spell worked with terrifying efficiency, stripping away the water as if it had never been there.

Thaline’s voice was as cold and sharp as the spell she’d just cast.

“Warm yourself.”

She didn’t offer to share her own heat, but presented it as a command, an allowance. Opening her hand, she revealed a ball of azure flame identical to the one Julian had conjured, its light pulsing with the same ethereal glow. It danced in her palm for a moment, a testament to her own magical prowess, before she closed her fist, extinguishing the flame. Then, with a curt nod of her head, she pointed towards a small clearing deeper in the woods. It was a direction, not an invitation. A suggestion of where he might find shelter and, presumably, a way to cook his ill-gotten meal.

The thought, venomous and unexpected, flared through Julian’s mind:

'Sadistic bitch.'

It wasn't a conscious decision to vocalize the insult, but a raw, instinctive reaction to Thaline’s cold demeanor. He kept the words locked within, knowing better than to openly defy her, but the resentment burned within him. He turned and trudged towards the clearing she had indicated, dragging the heavy fish behind him with a grim determination. Despite his current age, echoes of his past life surfaced. He remembered countless fishing trips with his grandfather, the patient instruction, the careful cleaning of the catch. He knew exactly how to gut and prepare the fish, to make it edible and palatable. But that knowledge was useless without a knife, a simple tool that was currently beyond his reach. He glanced back at Thaline, but she silently stalked behind him with her own fish in tow. She'd fluidly sliced it's head off and was carrying it by the tail nonchalantly.

The clearing Thaline had directed him towards offered little in the way of comfort. It was a small, muddy patch surrounded by dense undergrowth, offering some protection from the wind, but little else. A ring of stones, blackened with soot, suggested it had been used as a makeshift campsite before, but it was currently barren and unwelcoming. Julian dropped the fish with a thud, his small body aching with exhaustion and cold. He began to search the area, **** for anything that could serve as a tool. A sharp stone, a piece of broken glass, anything that could be used to cut into the thick scales of the fish.

Julia’s voice, small and laced with frustration, broke the silence of the clearing.

“I need a knife.”

He didn’t ask politely, didn’t attempt to soften the demand. It was a statement, a simple acknowledgement of a basic necessity. He looked up at Thaline, his expression a mixture of defiance and helplessness. He knew she was capable of providing one, had likely carried countless weapons in her time as a Dragoon Captain. But whether she 'would' was another matter entirely. She hadn't offered assistance thus far, and he doubted she would start now. He braced himself for a harsh retort, or worse, to be told to simply do without.

For a fleeting moment, something flickered across Thaline’s usually impassive face. A ghost of…respect? Acknowledgment, perhaps, that the boy possessed a spark of defiance, a refusal to be completely cowed. It was gone in an instant, masked once more by her usual stoicism. Then, with a swift, precise movement, she flicked her wrist. A small object left her hand, arcing through the air before landing with a dull thud on the earthen ground at Julian’s feet. It was a pocket knife, its handle crafted from dark wood, the blade gleaming silver in the dappled sunlight. It wasn’t ornate, or particularly impressive, but it was perfectly sized for his small hands, a practical tool offered without a word of encouragement or instruction.

Thaline remained on the periphery, a silent observer of Julian’s unexpected competence. She hadn't offered assistance, hadn't offered praise, but she hadn’t interfered either. Instead, she had conjured a vibrant ball of azure flame in the palm of her hand, the heat radiating outwards but not scorching her skin. She sat cross-legged against a fallen log, leaning back with an air of casual indifference, and proceeded to roast small portions of her own fish directly within the magical fire. The aroma of cooked fish mingled with the scent of woodsmoke, creating a surprisingly pleasant atmosphere in the small clearing. Her gaze remained fixed on Julian, assessing, evaluating, but her expression remained unreadable. It was impossible to discern whether she was impressed, disappointed, or simply indifferent to his skills.

Julian, having efficiently prepared his catch, meticulously sliced the fillets into bite-sized cubes. He then took the time to find suitable branches, carefully sharpening the ends before skewering the fish onto them, creating makeshift skewers. He positioned them above the crackling flames, rotating them slowly to ensure even cooking. While the fish roasted, he turned his attention to the remaining portion of the catch – the roe. He carefully scooped it out, examining the delicate, orange clusters with a connoisseur's eye. Then, with a small, satisfied sigh, he popped a handful into his mouth, savoring the rich, briny flavor. It was a small indulgence, a moment of quiet pleasure amidst the harsh reality of his new life. The roe glowed magically in his mouth as he slurped them down.

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the occasional chirp of birds in the surrounding trees. Julian continued to patiently rotate his fish skewers, occasionally glancing up at Thaline, but quickly averting his gaze when their eyes met. He sensed her scrutiny, the weight of her observation, and it made him uneasy. He finished the roe, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and then began to eat the roasted fish, savoring the smoky, savory flavor.

The question, blunt and unexpected, cut through the quiet atmosphere like a shard of ice.

“You sure you’re Lael’s kid?”

Thaline’s voice was devoid of inflection, lacking any hint of warmth or curiosity. It wasn’t a question born of genuine doubt, but rather a statement of observation, a cold assessment of the stark contrast between him and his father. Lael was boisterous, outgoing, radiating warmth and good humor. Julian, even at his young age, possessed a quiet intensity, a calculating gaze, and a subtle air of…something else. Something that didn’t align with the image of the jovial adventurer she knew as his father. He was absolutely nothing like Lael. It was a disconcerting realization, one that fueled her initial apprehension about taking him under her care.

The retort was impulsive, a knee-jerk reaction to Thaline’s unsettling question.

“Perhaps you should ask my mother that question.”

The words tumbled from Julian’s mouth before he could fully process them, a defensive reflex born of a past lifetime of sarcasm and long winded arguments. The words were out now, hanging in the air like a fragile, unspoken insinuation of his mother's faithfulness to his father. He immediately regretted his outburst, bracing himself for Thaline's inevitable response. His cheeks flushed, and he busied himself with adjusting the fish skewers, avoiding her dark gaze. He had said too much, opened a door he shouldn’t have.

To Julian's surprise, a low chortle rumbled from Thaline’s throat. It wasn’t a hearty laugh, or even a particularly amused sound, but a quiet, almost **** release of tension. It was a sound so unexpected, so out of character, that Julian instinctively froze, his hands still hovering over the rotating fish skewers. Her obsidian eyes, which had been fixed on him with an unnerving intensity, softened slightly, a flicker of something akin to…amusement? She didn’t elaborate, didn’t offer an explanation for her reaction. She simply continued to watch him, the corners of her lips tilted in a barely perceptible smile. The sound hung in the air, a curious anomaly in the otherwise stark landscape of their interaction.

Thaline’s smirk widened, a fleeting expression that transformed her stern features into something almost… playful. It vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by her usual stoic mask, but the impression lingered.

“I suppose that answer is suitable as any for a child of Lael.”

Thaline’s words were laced with a dry wit that Julian hadn’t expected. She didn’t press him further, didn’t demand an explanation or a retraction. She simply accepted his evasive answer, as if it confirmed he was indeed his father's son, without needing further elaboration.

~

The following morning dawned crisp and clear, the forest bathed in the golden light of the rising sun. They packed up their meager camp with a practiced efficiency, Thaline handling the bulk of the work while Julian quietly observed, offering assistance when asked. Soon they were underway once more, rattling along in the enclosed space of the carriage. The journey was mostly silent. Thaline occupied herself with studying maps and reviewing reports, while Julian stared out the window, watching the scenery blur past. The rolling hills gradually gave way to expansive plains, and the trees thinned, replaced by fields of ripening grain. The first village less than a days ride from his parents home.

The carriage lurched to a halt, and before Thaline could even issue a command, Julian was already scrambling out, a look of **** urgency on his face. He didn't offer an explanation, didn't even glance back at his aunt. He simply bolted, disappearing behind a thick cluster of bushes with remarkable speed. The sound of rustling leaves and relieved sighs followed shortly after, confirming the nature of his hasty departure. Thaline watched him go with a raised eyebrow, a flicker of amusement crossing her features. It was a surprisingly unrefined display, a stark contrast to the controlled composure he had exhibited earlier.

It seemed even a child with a secret past life had the basic needs of a seven-year-old.

Once Julian reappeared, looking considerably relieved, Thaline didn’t offer a word of comment regarding his hasty retreat. Instead, she turned and began to walk, her long strides carrying her purposefully towards the village blacksmith’s shop.

“Julian, come.”

Thaline’s voice was clipped and efficient, a summons rather than an invitation. She didn’t slow her pace, expecting him to follow. The blacksmith’s shop was a bustling hub of activity, the rhythmic clang of hammer on steel echoing through the village square. Sparks flew as the blacksmith, a burly man with soot-stained hands and a leather apron, worked on a piece of metal, shaping it with practiced ease. The air was thick with the smell of coal smoke and hot iron. Thaline approached the counter, her gaze sweeping over the various tools and weapons on display.

“I need a practice sword for him.”

She said, her voice carrying over the din of the forge.

“Something light, balanced, but durable enough to withstand regular use.”

She glanced at Julian, assessing his size and build.

“And a set of bracers."

Before Thaline could continue, the blacksmith’s wife, a plump woman with rosy cheeks and a warm smile, bustled forward. She was a stark contrast to her husband’s gruff exterior, radiating a gentle kindness that immediately put Julian at ease.

“Oh, let me take care of that, Commander Thaline.”

She chirped, her voice bright and cheerful. She turned to Julian, her eyes twinkling.

“Come here, dearie. Let’s see how big your arms are getting.”

With a nimble hand, she produced a length of measuring thread and began to carefully measure his forearms, her touch surprisingly gentle.

“Growing so fast, aren’t you? Just like my own little sprout.”

She glanced at Thaline with a knowing smile.

“A young lad needs proper protection, especially when learning to wield a blade.”

Once the blacksmith’s wife had finished taking Julian’s measurements, she ushered him outside, explaining that the forge was a dangerous place for a young boy.

“You just wait right here, dearie.”

She said, patting his cheek with a warm hand.

“I’ll bring you a sweet roll while your aunt discusses the details.”

'Your sweet rolls are the only thing I want to eat.'

The boy thought to himself perversely, his gaze fixated on her jiggling bosoms as she cooed over him.

The thought, unshockingly mature for a twenty something year old trapped in the body of a seven-year-old, flickered through Julian’s mind, a perverse and unsettling impulse that felt alien even to himself. His gaze, undeniably drawn, lingered on the blacksmith’s wife’s ample figure, specifically the gentle sway of her milky breasts as she moved. He didn’t voice the thought, of course, but it burned beneath the surface, a disturbing undercurrent to the otherwise innocent interaction. The woman, oblivious to his internal turmoil, continued to coo over him, offering a sweet smile and a gentle pat on the head. He **** himself to look away, a flush creeping up his neck. The sensation was… confusing, disturbing, and intensely arousing, a feeling that sent a jolt of anxiety through his young body. He was a man trapped in a child’s form, and the conflicting desires were beginning to surface.

The moment the blacksmith’s wife bustled back into the forge, Julian released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. A wave of relief washed over him, coupled with a strange sense of shame and confusion. He leaned against the rough stone wall of the building, his heart still hammering in his chest. The air suddenly felt cleaner, less…charged. He glanced towards the forge, half expecting Thaline to emerge with a disapproving glare, but she remained inside, deep in discussion with the blacksmith. He was alone, for now, and the solitude was a welcome respite from the unsettling encounter. He couldn’t shake the image of the woman’s generous form, or the disturbing thoughts that had raced through his mind. He was a mess of conflicting emotions, a grown man trapped in this accursed child’s body... at least for now.

A few minutes stretched into an eternity as Julian stood there, wrestling with his thoughts. The rhythmic clang of the hammer resumed within the forge, a steady beat that did little to calm his racing mind. Finally, Thaline emerged, her expression unreadable as always. In her hands, she carried a small, well-balanced practice sword and a pair of leather bracers, perfectly sized for Julian. She handed them to him without a word, her gaze assessing his reaction.

"I do not have money to pay you for these."

Julian said to his aunt with a hint of stubbornness only true Sato family members carried on the maternal side of the family.

Thaline’s lips thinned, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. She turned her gaze towards the blacksmith, who was watching them with a curious expression.

“That won’t be a problem.”

She said, her voice clipped and authoritative. She reached into a pouch at her belt and produced a handful of silver coins, handing them to the blacksmith with a dismissive gesture.

“Consider it a contribution to the local economy.”

She turned back to Julian, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“You are my responsibility now. Do not concern yourself with such matters.”

The subtle sharpness in her tone brooked no argument. It was a command, not a request. She clearly expected obedience, and wasn’t inclined to tolerate any displays of childish stubbornness.

"Now, let’s see if you can even hold the sword properly."

A small act of rebellion flickered in Julian’s eyes, a momentary defiance that quickly subsided. He hesitated for a heartbeat, his small hands clenching into fists, before ultimately relenting. He allowed the blacksmith’s wife to fasten the leather bracers around his forearms, the cool leather a strange sensation against his skin. Then, with a silent resignation, he accepted the sword belt, carefully adjusting it around his slender waist before sheathing the practice sword. The weight of the weapon felt surprisingly natural, a familiar comfort that resonated deep within him. He stood there, a small figure clad in miniature armor, the sword hanging at his side, a strange and unsettling sight. He remained silent, his expression unreadable, his inner turmoil hidden beneath a carefully constructed façade of composure. Thaline watched his movements with a critical eye before lightly grabbing him by the back of the neck, steering him town the street towards the barbershop.

Thaline didn’t offer any words of encouragement or instruction, simply guiding Julian through the bustling village streets with a firm grip on the back of his neck. The midday sun beat down on them, casting long shadows as they walked. They passed merchants hawking their wares, children playing games, and villagers going about their daily routines. Julian, accustomed to the quiet solitude of the farm, found the noise and activity overwhelming. He kept his gaze fixed on the cobblestone path, trying to ignore the curious stares of the townsfolk.

They arrived at a modest stone building with an iron and bronze striped pole outside – the village barbershop. The scent of herbs and shaving soap wafted into the street. Thaline steered Julian inside, the small bell above the door jingling to announce their arrival.

The barber, a portly man with a neatly trimmed beard and a cheerful disposition, looked up from his work with a welcoming smile.

“Commander Thaline! A pleasure to see you. And who is this young man?”

He glanced at Julian with a curious expression. Before Julian could respond, Thaline cut him off.

“A clean shave for the boy’s head.”

She stated firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. The barber’s smile faltered slightly, replaced by a look of professional neutrality.

“A… clean shave? Are you certain, Commander? It’s quite a drastic measure for such a young lad.”

He paused, glancing between Thaline and Julian, sensing the tension in the air.

"It's not often we completely shave a child's head, but if it's your wish..."

"Boys his age are beginning knight school with that clean shave as well. Think nothing of it."

Thaline murmured, taking a seat on the stone bench across from the barber chair.

The barber’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but he quickly masked his skepticism.

“Ah, I see. Following the new academy protocols, then. Very well.”

He bustled around, gathering his tools – a straight razor, a shaving brush, and a bowl of warm, soapy water. He draped a protective cloth around Julian’s shoulders, then carefully positioned a stool in front of the chair.

“Now then, young man.”

He said, addressing Julian directly.

“This won’t hurt a bit, but it might feel a little… cool.”

He gave a reassuring smile, but Julian could sense the barber’s uncertainty. Thaline watched the proceedings with a stoic expression, her arms crossed over her chest. The air in the small shop was thick with anticipation, the only sound the gentle hum of conversation from the street outside.

"That woman kidnapped me."

Julius said quietly to the barber, trying to get his aunt in trouble.

The barber’s hand froze mid-air, the shaving brush hovering inches from Julian’s face. He stared at the boy, his expression a mixture of shock and disbelief.

“Kidnapped?”

He stammered, his voice barely a whisper. He glanced towards Thaline, who remained seated on the bench, her face an impassive mask. The air in the shop suddenly crackled with tension. Thaline’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint appearing in their depths. She slowly rose to her feet, her movements deliberate and controlled.

“What did you say?”

She asked, her voice dangerously low. It wasn’t a question, but a demand. The barber, caught in the crossfire, looked from Julian to Thaline, his face pale with apprehension. He clearly didn’t want to be involved in whatever was unfolding.

"Just the truth."

Julian muttered defiantly.

Thaline took a deliberate step towards Julian, her imposing figure casting a long shadow over him. The barber instinctively retreated behind his workstation, his eyes wide with fear.

“The truth?”

Thaline’s voice was a silken threat.

“You dare accuse me of such a thing?”

She knelt down, bringing her face level with Julian’s, her obsidian gaze piercing and unwavering.

“I am your guardian now, and I will not tolerate lies or insolence. Do you understand?”

The intensity of her stare was almost suffocating. The barber, frozen in place, could only watch in horrified silence. Julian met his aunt’s gaze, his small body trembling slightly, but refusing to back down. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but a spark of defiance still flickered within him.

“Only the truth.”

He repeated, his voice barely a whisper, but firm nonetheless.

Thaline’s jaw tightened, her knuckles white as she clenched her fists. For a moment, it seemed she might unleash her fury upon Julian, but she visibly **** herself to regain control. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort.

“Very well."

She said, her voice cold and clipped. She turned to the barber, her gaze unwavering.

“Shave his head. Make it quick.”

The barber, relieved to be released from the tense standoff, quickly resumed his work. He carefully applied the warm, soapy lather to Julian’s scalp, then expertly wielded the straight razor, swiftly and efficiently removing the boy’s hair. Julian remained stoic throughout the ordeal, his eyes fixed on a point in the distance, refusing to meet Thaline’s gaze. The only sound in the shop was the rhythmic scrape of the razor against his skin.

The cool air outside felt like a balm against Julian’s newly shorn scalp. He flinched as the sunlight hit his sensitive skin, but offered no outward sign of discomfort. Once inside the carriage, the plush velvet seats felt strangely isolating. Thaline settled opposite him, her expression unreadable. The rhythmic clip-clop of the horse’s hooves against the cobblestones filled the void, but it did little to ease the tension. It was a suffocating silence, heavy with unspoken accusations and simmering resentment. Thaline stared out the window, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery, seemingly determined to ignore Julian’s presence. He, in turn, kept his eyes lowered, studying the intricate patterns woven into the carriage’s upholstery, desperately avoiding any contact with his aunt. The journey to the capital felt longer than ever, each mile stretching out into an eternity of strained silence... and they still had yet another several weeks on this long journey together.

"You will be disciplined."

Thaline finally said softly. There was no venom or anger in her voice, just simple disappointment at his rude behavior earlier.

Julian flinched, but didn’t meet Thaline’s gaze. Her tone, devoid of anger, was somehow more unsettling than a shouting match would have been. It spoke of a cold, calculated resolve. He braced himself for whatever punishment she had in mind.

“Discipline is necessary, Julian.”

Thaline continued, her voice still soft.

“Not because you spoke ill of me to a stranger, though that is unacceptable. But because falsehoods have consequences. You must learn to consider the ramifications of your actions.”

She paused, her eyes finally meeting his.

“When we arrive at the capital, you will begin a rigorous schedule of lessons. Etiquette, history, strategy… and a great deal of self-reflection.”

She leaned back against the carriage seat, her expression hardening.

“Consider this your first lesson, Julian. Actions have consequences. Now let's get this done and over with.”

She said as the carriage rolled on.

Julian didn't know what she was talking about until Thaline swiftly dragged him over her lap and pulled his trousers down, fully intending to spank him as the first form of discipline. The sudden movement caught him completely off guard. One moment he was bracing for lectures and extra studies, the next he was being hauled onto Thaline’s lap, his protests dying in his throat. Before he could fully process what was happening, the cool air hit his exposed skin as Thaline swiftly pulled down his trousers. A wave of mortification washed over him, his face burning with shame and anger. He struggled against her grip, but Thaline’s strength was overwhelming. Her expression was devoid of emotion, her eyes cold and calculating.

The first sting of the spank landed with a sharp crack, echoing in the confined space of the carriage. Julian gasped, a strangled cry escaping his lips. It wasn’t the pain itself, though it was considerable, but the sheer humiliation of it all. To be treated like a disobedient child, to be subjected to such a public display of discipline… it was unbearable. He twisted and writhed, trying to escape, but Thaline held him firmly in place, her grip unyielding.

Each successive sting felt hotter, sharper, and more humiliating than the last. Julian’s struggles grew weaker with each impact, his initial defiance giving way to a **** attempt to shut down, to simply disappear. Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision, but he stubbornly refused to let them fall. He clenched his jaw, biting back cries of pain and shame.

The final sting reverberated through Julian’s body, leaving him trembling and breathless. Thaline released him as abruptly as she’d seized him, her grip loosening with a noticeable lack of remorse. He scrambled to pull up his trousers, his hands shaking so badly he fumbled with the fastenings. As he finally managed to secure them, he dared to look up at Thaline. A flicker of something akin to amusement danced in her dark obsidian eyes, a chilling contrast to the severity she’d displayed just moments before.

Every jostle of the carriage sent a fresh wave of pain through Julian’s backside. He shifted and squirmed, desperately trying to find a comfortable position, but there was none to be had. His bottom felt like it was on fire, a searing ache that radiated down his legs. The once-plush velvet of the carriage seat now felt like sandpaper against his raw skin. He pressed his hands against his burning flesh, trying to muffle the discomfort, but it was a futile effort. Each bump in the road was a fresh insult, a reminder of his humiliation and Thaline’s merciless discipline. He remained silent, his face pale and drawn, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery, refusing to meet Thaline’s eyes. The journey to the capital had taken a decidedly far more unpleasant turn than they'd started off with...