Norman had been the chief of staff of the Collins estate, him being hired a few years before the birth of Mordred.
The old man was shocked that Mordred had been found, and due to his relationship he had with the boy he was the only one brought in who was not already an agent of Targe.
But Norman Fisher was not expecting this, he was told that Mordred's broken state had been found in.
Yet the old man watched as the returned Collins whistled as he was searching for something or other.
In front of all seated were assorted freshly made appetizers and hot tea, solely made by the man that they themselves were supposed to look after.
Norman watched as the others bickered as they tried to figure out if this was some kind of stupid joke, because they were taken aside for an incredibly special mission of taking responsibility and care of the recently found Mordred.
They too had heard about the gaunt and tortured creature that the boy had become and how they had to make sure that they had to be excessive when it came to his care.
But they were not greeted by a broken man, they had been greeted by Mordred.
Who obviously was physically scared, gave a familiar smile and boisterously invited them in.
Norman, who had previously taken care of Mordred when he was younger, could tell that this was the boy that Carladax stole all those years ago.
And so after a delightful tour with Mordred acting as their guide, he invited them to sit down and enjoy some freshly brewed tea as he searched for a few things he needed to grab to start the day.
After finding what he needed, some old training equipment and a couple practice weapons Mordred was quick to set up the outdoor training area that Norman had seen a couple hundred times when Mordred was young.
By this time, the caretakers brought in by Wallace had excused themselves so they could inform their boss of Mordred's miraculous recovery.
Leaving it to Mordred himself to set up the training area and Norman being there for company.
But while Mordred set up the hanging targets, Norman was asked a question he was not expecting from the young man.
"How is the family Norman?"
The lively yet raspy giant asked back still turned to Norman.
Norman had taken leave for the first time, to be there for his only child during her pregnancy.
At first Norman was surprised that the man could even remember him.
He had served the Voyer family before the Collins, and it was impossible for the Voyer children to remember his name.
"They're fine."
Norman said in a small voice as he continued to drink tea and watch Mordred set everything up.
The giant laughed due the meekness of the answer he received.
The thunderous wheezing shook the ground, before Mordred pulled himself together.
"I'm talking about the new addition to the family old man, they've got to be around four years old by now right?"
Oh yes Norman's grandchild, the reason that Norman wasn't there the day Mordred was taken.
That day haunted the poor man, the burdening thought of what if that kept him up until the early hours of the morning for the past four years.
Norman guessed it was time to talk to the victim about what his actions had cost the young man.
"Juliet, a bright girl reminds me of her mother when she was at that age."
Mordred smiled at that answer, it was warm not from the look of it goodness no but Norman could feel the love and joy behind it.
"fantasic , congratulations old man!"
Mordred said as he put a hand on Norman's shoulder.
"Hope my late well wishes won't be disregarded."
The Giant said in his usual jovial demeanor.
Norman, seeing the seemingly unchanged Mordred, looked down at his drink and spoke softly.
"Ive missed you boy."
Mordred laughed at those words.
"Missed me? I'm right here!"
Norman became quiet after that, Mordred who spoke as if he hadn't disappeared for almost four years.
…
Mordred having finished the training area with the reappearing help that had finished up their business.
With glaive in hand Mordred had been repeating the same training regiment at nauseam for the assistants who were watching.
Until in the middle of his fifth regiment, he stopped sighed and threw it in an ever growing pile of weapons.
"I believe that makes fifteen weapons that don't "Feel Right" correct?"
Marty, one of the assistants said while obviously bored.
Norman, who was reading a book, turned the page before he made his comment.
"It's the eighteenth, you missed them during your "bathroom break" I would have you know."
But as the two argued, Mordred sighed at his continued conundrum.
He had been through countless weapons and nothing had felt right in his hands, from axes to spears to swords and their hundreds of different variations.
All that searching for nothing but a dead end, Mordred had hoped that something would have changed but obviously those hopes were dashed.
As Mordred was trying to do some self reflection, he was hit with a thought.
He jumped in excitement as he spoke up to his two caretakers.
Do either of you two know where to find a farmer's scythe?"
…
Mordred inspected the scythe in his hand, it was simple in its construction.
A large curved iron blade meant to cut through wheat or barley, and a simple wooden shaft that was well worn.
"It's not meant for battle."
Marty tried to tell Mordred, but his words were left unheeded as Mordred silently held the farmer's tool.
Then as Mordred started to rise the air around him sifted.
And when Mordred took his stance it was like a wolf getting ready to lunge.
He then started to do a similar regiment as he did with the eighteen other weapons, but even if the movements were the same the power behind them was not.
As he swung the scythe the targets and dummies shattered, but Mordred continued seemingly uninterested as he destroyed the training grounds.
Watching the destruction before them, Marty was the first to speak up.
"He's like a completely different person."
Norman turned to the younger man, he asked a seemingly basic question.
"Youve never worked with a Collin's have you?"
Marty instantly shook his head, to which Norman set aside the book as he started to earnestly join the conversation.
Norman gestured to Mordred who was moving like his life was on the line.
"He gets it from his father, Uther has the nickname of Knighted Berserker for a reason."
Marty shook his head, and the two kept watching before the younger of the two spoke up once more.
"But really a scythe? look at him, it's like he's the grim reaper!"
Norman shrugged.
"Somethings you can't force, I've served two completely opposite knight families. And even they both believed that a warrior and their weapons are a sacred and fated bond.
But before they could continue their conversation, Mordred spoke for the first time in about 30 minutes.
"It's perfect!"
He roared while on his knees, the scythe in his hands had become dull due to its extended use.
His years-long search finally over, Mordred laid in the middle of the completely destroyed training area in a sense of euphoria and peace.
Marty could only sigh, shaking his head as he walked towards the giant.
…
This whole week had been hard for Wallace.
Uther remained silent the entire meeting, he just sat and allowed others to speak for him.
That was something the old man could easily work with, yet Igraine was a whole other issue.
She had been antagonistic the entire week that they had with the oblige faction.
And of course Wallace expected that, what he hadn't was how antagonistic she would be.
Following faction members home and burning their trees down to cinders.
This had been the fifth time now of Wallace receiving reports of mysterious fires and complaints of said mysterious fires.
Then there was the oblige faction that had been hounding for the kingdom to reform the taxation around private ventures.
Thankfully he was able to keep control of the court along with being able keep the public's trust in them through Uther and Igraine appearing in person for the first time in over three years.
But before he could sigh there was a knock on the door, it was Marty, his nephew and apprentice.
But before he could welcome his nephew in, Marty had opened the door in a huff and an obvious furious look on his face.
Wallace had ordered his Nephew to supervise the caretaking of Mordred undercover of course, yet before he could ask what had gotten in his nephew's head Marty started with his "report"
Wallace had a feeling something would go wrong, yet out of every problem he could expect and had planned for.
He could not have even dreamed of this, Mordred magically regaining his memories and personality.
Marty spoke about the cheery and charismatic giant that he and the caretakers met, who welcomed them in and gave an impromptu tour and prepared them food for the entire week.
That Mordred had become incredibly obsessed with training, especially with his new chosen weapon the farming scythe.
Marty also chastised him, his own nephew accusing Wallace to be some merry trickster and that this was some fool's errand.
Wallace watched on as his perfectly taught successor raged against him and his "trick".
Wallace's mind silently tried to rationalize what had happened, but none of this made any sense to him.
He had seen the shell of what Mordred had become with his own eyes, the quiet and frightful giant who slouched behind his parents.
But yet Marty's story was far too specific to be some wives tale, and Wallace had molded his nephew since he was a baby, he genuinely could not lie to him.
Which meant to a certain point what his apprentice was telling him was true.
Wallace was confused and completely dumbstruck by the news, Marty seeing this stopped him in his tracks.
His uncle always had an answer for him, some piece of knowledge or wisdom, that Marty himself could not find.
For him to be stunned in silence at this report of his, it made him go from fury to unease and made him pale at the the thought of his uncle himself being out of depth.
It took a couple seconds for Marty to speak up once more, but when he did it lacked the power and the bluster he had when he first entered.
"What do we do?"
It took a moment for Wallace to answer, each second feeling like an eternity for Marty.
Which ended with the old man sighing before he spoke.
"What is Mordred doing right this second?"
Marty, still on edge spoke slowly and carefully.
"He's been getting us to buy every farming scythe in the capital, why?"
Wallace got off his chair as he motioned for his nephew to follow him.
And as Wallace had started to organize the paper work he had on his desk, he asked his apprentice a second question.
"Has Mordred started to use his magic at all?"
Marty gave a confused look to his uncle, to which Wallace explained what his second question entailed.
"Igraines magic the same that Mordred wields, is special, it is completely different to the arcane arts that are used by the people of the mage tower."
Marty nodded as he continued to follow Wallace as he made his way through the Orderly Information Bureau's building and spoke at the same time.
"That magic unlike other arcane masteries that we know of, works like theirs does."
"And Igraine can recognize it from even miles away, so when she and Uther find out that they're son's condition has changed."
"It would be best that they hear that from us, instead of her realizing that her son who is in a very delicate state in her eyes is using their highly destructive magic."
They had made it to the entrance of the building as Wallace had been talking.
"What would happen if they found out that way?"
It didn't even take half a second for Wallace's reply.
"It would be bad."
Wallace said as he pushed open the double doors, as he finalised his plan to shrink the damage of this situation.
…
Familiar, an ancient and mysterious sorcery that creates a unique creature from the caster's own soul.
A creature forever loyal birthed from one's mana, the ideal partner to any magic wielder.
But sadly the use and even knowledge of such sorcery is unknown in the continent of Bolavon.
…
Mordred stood in the middle of the training grounds, a large pile of worn out scythes stood a couple of feet away from him.
Mordred had accepted that he would need a farming scythe created from scratch to handle his own monstrous strength as well as the difficulty of his task.
So he decided to move his attention elsewhere for the time being.
He moved to an empty valley about an hour's walk away from his home.
He cracked his knuckles as he walked to the large magic circle that he created, composed of ash and smouldering coals laid out in a hexagram like design.
Mordred was excited to be reunited with his oldest friend, Teratorn Mordred's own familiar that he had summoned from his magic when he was only ten years old.
Mordred smiled ear to ear as he was setting up the summoning circle, remembering all the good times he had with his friend.
Teratorn had the form of a small baby chick, who would have been completely overlooked had it not been for his plumage being a deep crimson red.
Igraine's own familiar, the mighty phoenix Duvow had also taken a similar younger form when she was first summoned.
Who grew into the mighty beast with her summoner, just like Teratorn would grow with Mordred.
A special and beautiful relationship that could only be shared by a Familiar and summoner.
And now after four painful years apart, it was time for their reunion!
Of course Mordred had tried summoning back his old friend from the moment he had awoke, but after many failures and researching his mother's journals.
It seemed that it would need the full summoning circle to work, due to Teratorn having been unsummoned for so long.
Now with the circle completed, Mordred got down to his knees with his arms and hands reaching towards the sky like he did all those years ago.
Bright orange mana accumulating on his palms as he then slammed them down onto the summoning circle.
And as his mana raced through the hexagram, it thrummed to life turning into a similar orange color.
But as Mordred continued the resummoning ritual, the thrumming of the circle grew in its cadence as it quickly began to take more and more mana from Mordred.
The circle itself began to change in front of the kneeling Mordred, the lines of the hexagram digging into the earth itself as the temperature around him started to rise.
Burning embers and coals burned and melded into each other as the ground itself cracked and brightly burned like volcanic rock.
And as all of this was happening, a different sound escaped from the circle.
Not one of burning stone and sizzling air, but the cry of a bird.
Deep and gutteral, something that would have stopped any sane person in their tracks.
But to Mordred he heard a cry of hope and sadness, a cry of wanting to return home and finally see the sky.
The call of a friend, Mordred teared up as he continued to pour his mana into the hexagram.
As the summoning circle burned brighter than the very sun, the circle exploded sending Mordred ten feet back.
Mordred, worrying about the circle and the one he wanted to summon, got back to his feet looking the large smoke cloud that had consumed the valley.
Yet before he could run back to the valley, he saw the smoke stir.
The young watched as something big walked towards him, as the ground stirred and smoke shifted.
And finally after slowly making his way through the smoke, Mordred saw him.
He stood at a towering twenty feet at the shoulder, with a wingspan over two hundred feet long.
With powerful legs paired with eagle-like claws, he walked through the destroyed valley unburdened.
And after smoke fully cleared could Mordred see his brother in full.
A long, featherless, prehensile neck that measured at ten feet long, it moved like a serpent with quick and dexterous movements as the titan looked at Mordred.
Its face was bald too, its skin a dull purple color and its head covered in a mane like plumage of crimson feathers.
His curved beak was fat with both top and bottom beaks somehow holding teeth within his mouth.
But the most noticeable feature was his eyes.
Bug eyed, each eye being the size of targe shields with blood red sclera and round black pupils.
Slowly Mordred held out his hand to which the familiar in front of him slowly brought his face to his summoner.
And as Mordred scratched Teratorn's beak like he used to when they were both much smaller.
"I thought I had a growth spurt."
Mordred and Teratorn both laughed at Mordred's bad joke.
The raspy laughs of the giant danced hand in hand with the guttural snickering of the monster bird throughout the destroyed valley.