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(Ch.3): Growing Up, Part 4

  “Good morning, Quintin! Amalia! Little Yen!” said Albus as we walked outside.

  “Good morning!” I spoke first with a chipper, childish tone. It kept up appearances and made me look less like a freak. My arms thrust toward Albus. “Gifts?”

  Albus chuckled. “Not today, little lady.”

  “Awww,” I pouted.

  “Come now to Uncle Albus.”

  “Not a chance,” said Quintin. Before I knew it, I was lifted into the air and placed on his shoulders. “Papa is the only one who gets to carry her.”

  “Papa!” I said, excited, forcing a goofy grin on my face as I lightly batted his head. “So tall! Hee hee!”

  “I never get to hold her anymore,” complained Albus.

  “That can’t be true,” retorted Quintin.

  “It is!”

  “Mhm. Maybe another time. We’ve got things to do and stuff to buy. Suspect everyone has got the same idea, or will sooner or later,” said Quintin as he deftly changed the topic. “Winter’s coming, after all.”

  The three of us said goodbye to Albus and strolled down the main street through town. People greeted us along the way. The lone baker, Greta, gave me a piece of bread. The blacksmith, Harkin, who had one of the only continually busy businesses year-round, waved hello and gave Quintin back his bow he had dropped by earlier in the week to get repaired. Everyone else offered us waves or warm greetings.

  "Yen! Play with us!” shouted a flock of children from the village. Six of them were running through town and passed us, laughing, as they thumped by.

  I stared after them with no intention of responding. I may have been a kid in body, but the idea of frolicking mindlessly through the village like an idiot wasn’t something I wanted to do. I doubted Amalia would let me even if I wanted to.

  We soon arrived at one of Amalia’s favorite stalls in the town’s market. She looked through the ingredients and picked up vegetables for dinner.

  A brilliant, bright book floated just above her left hand. It was her codex, a personal log made of mana.

  A codex could store items, create contracts, keep notes, manage money, and relay basic personal information to its owner. It essentially served as a journal, backpack, and bank rolled into one magical, personal, real-time book. I had been allowed to examine Quintin’s and Amalia’s codexes a few times and generally understood how they worked. Most people did since they were vital for survival.

  I didn’t have a codex and wouldn’t until I awakened my mana. It meant that if I needed to, I could not buy or sell goods because I couldn’t access the commonly used currency. Of course, there were ways around that, yes, but it was inconvenient.

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  “Look at it,” I heard a woman hiss as she passed us in the market. “Acting like it’s one of us. Monster.” I heard her spit. “Why do they treat it like a person? Disgusting.”

  I ignored her. Her words hardly phased me.

  Quintin, however, clenched my hand. He let me down a while ago and has been keeping me close to him since we were in public. “Don’t listen to them,” he said calmly.

  “Stupid people don’t matter to me,” I replied.

  Quintin chuckled, relaxing immediately.

  Suddenly, an idea popped into my head. “Are people going to treat me worse when I get older?” I asked Quintin suddenly.

  Quintin’s steps slowed. “What do you mean?”

  “People don’t really bother me now like they did the first time people saw my ears. Most kids treat me fine, and even some adults don’t seem to care. But the people who do?” I hesitated, then forced the words out. “They don’t see me as a person. They never will.”

  Quintin’s jaw tightened.

  “They tolerate me because I’m small and harmless. But what happens when I grow up? Will they suddenly hate me? Will they—” I stopped myself.

  Quintin didn’t answer right away. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair before exhaling sharply. “No. It won’t get worse.”

  “You don’t sound sure.”

  Silence.

  “I need to learn how to defend myself,” I said, essentially laying out my reason for wanting to learn to use magic and fight. “I don’t want to wait until something happens and then regret it.” I turned to him, my voice firmer. “You were a soldier. You know how to fight. Teach me.”

  “Absolutely not,” Amalia cut in, rejoining us from the market stall. Her tone left no room for argument. “You’re five. You’re too young.”

  “That’s arbitrary. What other five-year-old acts like me? Age is irrelevant. I’m special,” I said arrogantly, though, objectively, my words were correct. More importantly, I was tired of this damn argument. “If I wait, it'll be too late by the time I actually need those skills. Why not now?”

  “Because you are safe.” Amalia’s voice softened, but her expression was resolute. “You have a home. A family. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Can we really say that?” Quintin murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know what she is, Amalia. She’s experienced it firsthand. You know how people—”

  “We’ll talk about it later,” she interrupted.

  “Which means we won’t,” I muttered.

  Amalia sighed. “Yen, listen to me. I want you to be happy. I want you to have a childhood.” She crouched down, meeting my eyes. “You’re obviously different from other kids, even putting aside your ears. You are intelligent beyond your years. But if you start training now, if you take that path, you won’t ever be able to step away from it. You understand that, right?”

  I did.

  But I also knew I had no other choice. So did she. I could tell. Even so, she didn’t relent.

  “Then if I’m so safe, I’ll just become an adventurer tomorrow,” I said, feigning innocence. “Sure, I can’t use mana, never used a sword, never hunted an animal, and don’t even have my codex yet, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out. After all, it’s not like this town revolves around hunting for food and killing monsters to survive.” I flashed her a too-sweet smile. “Oh, wait.”

  Amalia closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, then smiled. “You’re grounded.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “You heard me.” She patted the hem of her dress and stood. “There will be no talk like this until you’re older. But…” She glanced at Quintin and then back at me. “I guess…I guess you can learn to hunt animals. Just deer and target practice for now. And only with your father. If you disobey him once, no more. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, mom.” I paused. “So…when I’m older—”

  “You’re pushing your luck.”

  “Sorry.”

  It was a start.

  “Am I wrong?” I asked Quintin once Amalia had walked ahead of us.

  He chuckled. “Your approach? Yeah. Your point? Not at all.”

  “As long as I got what I wanted.”

  “Brat.” Quintin ruffled my hair. “Come on. We’ll make you a bow together after my next job.”

  I smiled. “Promise?”

  Quintin grinned. “Promise.”

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