I lived in that room for a year, and my interactions were mostly with Abby and her company. It wasn't until after my first birthday, which wasn't even celebrated, that I got to be outside that Dreary room. The Manor was large and expansive, with decorations strewn about. The hallway to my room was long and stretched farther into another hallway. My half was the eastern hall, and the other was the western hall. My older Sister Candida lived in the west, and I could not go anywhere near that direction. A fork in the halls led to an open area with the front door just below. A big staircase leads to it. The black iron railings and the black and yellow carpet going down it. We would dine and eat from the opening area and the staircase underneath. The first time I ate at the table, I was only 1 year and 6 months old.
"Everyone, please be seated, as we have a new member seated at the table!" a maid said.
The maid was dressed in the same attire as Abby, although she seemed a little taller. Her hair was long and black, and she gestured her hand in a low, side-to-side swipe as if to address everyone in the room. Although the strange thing was that she had her eyes closed. How could she see I was here even when her eyes were shut? I sat on a black cushioned seat with dark oak wood as instructed. The seat dug into me like a grave enveloping my small lower body. Abby was also there to help me with etiquette and manners, standing at my side, silently watching me. It was comforting. She had told me before that I had to be silent when eating, entering, and leaving the dining place, and when I had asked why, all she had to say was,
"Because the master likes it that way, it shall be that way."
Light fled into the room and through the blackened curtains, yet no matter how hard I tried to feel the warm sun, the light never touched my skin. It smelled of charcoal, even when food was delicious and warm smelling on the table, suggesting otherwise. Juicy duck, mango looking fruits, and a nut salad. A hefty meal for someone my size. I wish they had apples at least. My father, Michael Von Glazvel, sat at the head of the blackwood table, a blackened throne like seat for him; his chair had crooked, spiraling patterns going up his chair like a fire erupting from his seat. On my right, my mother sat, strangely, though a white, silky cloth veiled her; she was sitting still and silent. My sister sat next to my mother. She was a small and stout girl. Sporting silver hair and silver, I sat on the left beside my father. My father did not reach for his fork; nobody did. My stomach aches for a meal even when food is sitting right there. He then raised his right gloved hand in the air and spoke,
"With this food I bless my soul, may the kingdom rest high, and may I seek no better meal than what I have. May my body rest afterward, and may I seek more tomorrow."
He put his hand down, and slowly, everyone began to eat. What a strange type of prayer. Maybe they said it before a meal, but that's just how it was. I struggled with food, trying to gnaw at the duck before me. Agh! These forsaken baby teeth!
"Do you need help?"
I looked to my left, and Abby held a knife and fork.
"Here, like this."
She expertly cut the duck into smooth, lean slices and did the same with the rest of the meal on my plate. I watched her intently. I would try to cut it myself, but these stubby fingers and arms can't do much. It surprised me that my father was silent throughout the ordeal, just eating and eating. My mother is no different. She seemed a little worse for wear, or at least from what I could tell. She was covered head to toe, like a nun or an Islamic person. She did not touch her food and did not move an inch. She just sat there attentively. A gripping pull at my chest hardened and turned into a rock. Sadness befell as I looked at my mother. Her head turned towards me. I couldn't hold it back. Soft tears started to well up in my eyes, and I began to sob silently.
My father begrudgingly looked at me as if my emotions were some bug infestation he wanted to kill.
"Get that thing out of my sight. I do not want to see it cry or hear it beg for its mother, " he said in a cold, fierce, but calming tone.
Abby looked at me sadly and picked me up from the chair she had helped me into and onto the floor. The tears still streamed down my face. Why? Why did I feel so sad? She wasn't my real mother, but at the same time, this body seemed to think so. I wiped my tears from my cheek and twisted around to look at my father. He scowled at me, so I scowled back. This action did not go over kindly with him. He stood from his large thorned chair. He was just as tall as I remembered. I stood my ground and looked into his dark green eyes. Holding them there for a second. Abby, seeing this, tried to rush me out of the dining area but was stopped by a gravely voice.
"Stop, bring him to me." My father said blankly, still staring at me with scorn.
Abby helped me walk over to him and his chair at his feet. I could see him in all of his tragedy. His boots looked heavy and black, belted at each 3-inch hike up to his tibialis. His military uniform was clean, and there was no wrinkle in sight except on his face. Dark bags under his eyes and near his brow suggested that he mostly held a frown. My father looked me up and down, still glaring at me.
"Soren Glazvell is your name; hold it well, you're dismissed."
I was shocked. I didn't even have a name. If I remember correctly, they didn't even announce it during my birth. So why now? Everyone called me young master, and I already had a name, my dead name. Mike, I was no more, and now I am Soren. Soren? What an odd name! Soren… My name is now Soren. My mother dropped her fork and looked at my father through her veil; even I could tell she was shocked. My older sister seemed angered by the name.
"How does he have a name at 1 when it took me until I was 3!? " she yelled at our father.
He turned around swiftly to her, "because he only at one dare looked me back in the eye with such intensity, a true sign of courage, no doubt. A man must mature quickly to start a family. Only at one year of age does he hold such hatred in his heart, yet so much courage. It took you three years for you, my darling Candida, to even speak to me, let alone try to look me in the eyes," he paused," so your brother has earned a right to his name, he can face his father, and you can't."
I looked at him, and his focus was back on me. "May I be excused, please?" I said with scorn
The man laughed at me, laughed at me! He rocked back in his throne like a chair, flipping back his head. Darn this squeaky voice!
"HA! You may go now, little one. Although disrespectful, I expect more of this courage to show." He raised his hand quickly, changing his mood and striking me across the face.
I felt the burning pang against my cheek. It all happened so quickly. Tears escaped my eyes without me noticing. He hit me! I was shocked once more. I looked back at him, and he smiled at me with an evil grin only a monster could produce.
"Remember that I am your father, and you shall respect me as such, although your bout of courage was great, your tone was not. When speaking to someone greater than you, or older than you, you should think of bowing or kneeling for a change, and when you speak, speak with a low and easy tone."
I nodded fast, holding my now bruised cheek, tears still streaming down my face, escaping without my doing. Abby rushed to my side and brought me out of the room. I was grateful for that, as I think I had eaten enough that day.
I returned to my room with Abby and waddled away from that desolate dining room. My cheek still burned with the intensity of a thousand sounds; that will probably leave a mark for a while. I thought for a time in my room. My name. I really wasn't given a name until now. Soren Glazwell. It sounds German, oddly enough, and what a weird name to be given, although he knew most of his peers had either strange or interesting names. Soren. It fit him, or at least the body he was in. Still, this family was crazy! His mother was some weird, pale, quiet woman, and his father was a brute of nature.
The only thing that didn't mix well was this family! I sighed and sat down on my rugged fur floor. The soft pelt calmed my spirit, if only just a little bit. I wish I were back in my old body. A fully grown one at least. Like one of those manga's where the main character keeps his old body and transfers over. No need to grow up anymore or learn, he's just there. He's just himself. I wish I were just myself, but I'm trapped in this body, this existence. Being a corporate working man with no kids and no wife was a boring life, but at least it wasn't one without limits.
I could walk anywhere or drive anywhere I wanted to go. I had my own flat that I could change and make my own. Here I can't do any of that. I can't move where I like to, but I'm trapped and locked in my room with Abby. If I did go outside, I doubt I could ride in a carriage or car, if such things even exist in this world, and from my speculation, I didn't think so. I couldn't even choose what I wanted to wear or eat. It was all decided by my father. Black, yellow, and dressed, and from dinner, he would most likely eat soups, red meat, and bread for the rest of his life.
"Oh by the gods, thank you, you mister are going to stay in your room after that, learning, writing, and reading will be your punishment for such rash behavior."
Ah, right, Abby. I forgot she was here. I looked up at her scowling face, and deep creases were etched upon it. She was angry; I didn't enjoy seeing her that way. She was the only person who cared for me until now.
"I'm sorry, Abby," I said
Looking down at the ground, I heard Abby shuffling. I then felt a presence right next to my face. I looked up and saw her again, and instead of an angry face, Abby had a face full of worry stricken upon her. She looked at me long and hard, then sighed and hugged me.
"Please, young master, you know I'm only for your well being. I'm sorry for my outburst; you are only a child."
She smiled at me. It then suddenly struck me. Abby, this maid who was to be by my side, was like a stepmother for mine. Not only that, but the feelings of sadness for my birth mother faded. Although I am a child, it still hurts my childish brain. Deep down, I know that this person, Abby, is the one I want to protect.
o—--------------------------o-------------------------------------o---------------------------o--------------------------o
I had turned six this year, and with that came the perks of leaving the bedroom for the most part. I was finally allowed access to the grounds and training center, although I couldn't leave until apparently much later. It was annoying to stay within a perimeter when I knew such beauty was not too far away. I could see the Counts Castle and the village from the Baron's Gardens. Life with Abby also improved, and not being a baby/toddler helped. She finally opened up about her family and how she came to work for the Baron. A small, country girl looking to make it big. She was first a merchant who sold trinkets and weapons, but that eventually failed. Even though sexism happened in this world, nobody wanted to buy into the young girl's dreams. She had then lost a lot of money, her father kicked her out, and she was ostracized from her family. Looking for work again, she started at a guild as a bellringer. Tidying things up and paperwork will be done soon enough. Then a man came up to her. The head butler, Danith. He had seen her hard work and knew the Baroness needed a new maid for her baby. So she came in and worked for them for 8 months until I finally popped out. She talked of the outside as an unforgiving but beautiful world. It was a breathtaking view with mountain peaks as big as the sky and valleys as low as the ocean. Of course, it'd be better if no people were there, but oh well.
The family remained the same; the Baron and Baroness maintained control of the area and were very busy, often barely able to stay for dinner or breakfast. I would look at my mother occasionally as she passed by, never saying a word, and she would look ahead. It was as if I didn't even exist. Creepy. On the other hand, my sister was a round child, around ten years old. The other thing that struck him as odd was that she practiced both the sword and magic. Oh, magic, magic! The first time I learned of magic, I was ecstatic.
A day like no other. I was only 4 years old, but when Abby told me that magic was real and used in everyday life, I was exhilarated. A fantasy world with swords, girls, magic, and monsters who wouldn't want this. Although she said I wouldn't be able to use it until I turned 7. An odd age, but it had to do with mana in your body forming, and no one in this world could quicken that process. Trust me, I tried. I wanted a cool skill, a panel, or something of the sort, but no, an everyday world. With magic that worked just as oddly. Oh, right about my sister! The sword and magic. Not only that, but also politics, math, mapping, survival skills, and more. I was going to start my training once my mana chains had developed. The mana chain was a unique system that no game he had encountered had. Not even a manga or book had magic work like this. This mana chain began working when you turned 7 and grew with your growth. Of course, genetically, some people had bigger ones, but that barely made a difference. If anything, it was a slight boost. Or at least that's what Abby had told me. I would get checked to see how my mana chains were doing once I reached age.
At least the new places he was able to discover had a connection. The Gardens, where he could relax, featured flowers of an out-of-this-world variety, a mix of purple, black, yellow, and silver. It looked like a glass greenhouse, though, which was sometimes a turnoff, especially when it was hot. Another thing about this world was that its weather was also WACK. One day it's sunny, the next it's snowing. Once, they encountered a tornado and a blizzard just out of nowhere. People say the weather wasn't always like this, though, and it's probably due to some strong demon mage or something of the sort. The training grounds were lovely to exercise in. I had always been a health nut back in my old world. So, running, jogging, and other simple exercises made me feel even better in this body. I was proud to say that he had reached a flexibility only some would dream about. The training grounds were dusty, open fields that mainly resembled an open arena, with one side marked by a wall and a housing hut for weapons and practice equipment. The other side is for target practice with bows and dummies. I had picked up the sword and found it fun to swing it around, especially the big sword, or what some guards called it, ZweiHander. The sword wasn't heavy at all; it was a wooden one, after all, but still, it seemed like some magic had been put into it to make it lighter. It was intriguing. The Guards that also practiced there had taken a liking to me and found it hilarious that a young boy picking up the most enormous sword was having fun swinging it around. They gave me pointers and taught me some rudimentary swings and stances.
The courtyard was a long stretch of road; it reminded him of an American slave plantation. Trees planted neatly, going to god knows where. From his speculation, the Manor was massive, but he had guessed it had to be to house all the servants. He wasn't allowed anywhere near the other servant courters or places. He couldn't even enter Abby's room, which struck him as odd. The main person was supposed to care for me, and I couldn't even say hello when she was in her room. Whatever.
I was lying on the training grounds, looking up at the sky, when I heard an all-too-familiar voice.
"HEY TWERP," Candida yelled, now appearing in my field of view.
For being only ten, she was massive, muscular, and had fiery red and silver eyes. She wore a type of naval officer's outfit, or that's what he could best make it out to be. A black leather and cloth office outfit, fitted with yellow tassels and assortments, and ruby gems. It did not suit her at all; it clashed with her hair color and skin tone, but at the same time, it suited her. Ugh, this world is so damn confusing.
"DID YOU HEAR ME!" She grabbed my shirt collar, pulling me up to her face. I "stood" there in the air, dangling.
"Get OFF ME YOU BIG OPH" I scrambled against her mighty grip, fearing the worst, a ten year old had bested me, thank god I can use the excuse of being this small.
"HAHA, looks like you're all fired up, ready to go for a round with your old sissy," she said, winking playfully.
I was now back on the ground, glaring and saying, "You're on," with a hint of pride.
Knowing all too well that I would get my ass kicked if I said no, I got up and dusted myself. My sister towered over me at 5'6, as I only stood at a measly 4ft. She tossed me a sword, and why don't you look at it? It's my favorite Zweihander. She got ready with hers, a bastard sword. God's, why does this happen to me?
"Ready, Soren," she didn't even allow me to agree as she went on, "Good because I've been training with a new technique called Liechtenauer style."
Great, not only was he gonna get his ass handed to him, but now it's going to be in an entirely new way. She launched forward, still keeping her distance, and swung from my right shoulder to my left side. Crap! She's fast, but I blocked the slash and expected her to faint or go into another swing. I went into a defensive position. Unfortunately, though, I didn't see her go to the point, and swiftly she thrust. The sword grazed me only slightly as I knocked it away. Not giving me any time to think or return my pacing, she went in again, crossing our blades in a connection. She grinned evilly. God, this girl scares me. She knocked my sword away, entered a cross guard, and swiftly slashed horizontally. I staggered from the connection block and could only watch as the sword swooped me off my feet. I fell on the ground hard on my ass, a quick and easy fight for her.
"BWAHHA, if that were a real sword, you would've been cut in half, little brother. Next time, maybe you should use a different sword, instead of that long piece of wood," she cockily stated.
"Yeah, yeah, keep talking big talk. I'm only 6, and I haven't learned anything you have yet. Just wait, sister. I'll get you one of these days, and with the sword of my choosing."
She seemed unfazed by my threat and smiled, walking up to pick me up and scruff my hair.
"You're too cute for such threats. Now, let's go another round. You need to learn all you can, my brother, before you go into your actual training. " She knelt down to match my height. "Even if I don't show it, you are very precious to me, Soren. Maybe at first we didn't get along, but I've grown, and now I'm going to help you. As your big sister, that's the most I can do for you." She smiled at me, still scruffing my hair.
Looking at her, I pouted but had to give it up. Who could say no to that? I went closer to her, hugged her, and kissed her cheek. She was obviously surprised and jumped a little, laughing.
"Hey, you little squirt, you can't just do that to any girl who talks to you," she said
"I know, that's why I only do it for you."
She got flustered and backed away, but soon found her ground.
"Ok, smooth talker, enough of that, it's time I taught you my technique."