Chapter 3: The Starboy And His Mother

“Why haven’t they called me to war?”

Both Enel’s parents paused at the question. The piece of meat Robert had been lifting with his spoon slipped free and dropped straight onto his lap. He stared blankly at it for a moment before slowly looking up at his wife across the table, his mouth still half-open.

Mira, meanwhile, merely stared back at him, silently urging the baron to answer. When he continued sitting there like a stunned ox, she lightly kicked his shin beneath the table.

Only then did he finally clear his throat.

“You are not of age yet, son,” he said, wiping his lips and beard before brushing the food from his lap. “Soon.”

“Father, I am taller than you.”

“You—”

“Pft—”

Mira nearly snorted the spoonful of soup hovering in front of her mouth. She quickly covered her lips, shoulders shaking faintly as Robert turned toward her in betrayal.

“I said you are not of age,” he continued, trying to regain some dignity. “Your height has no bearing on the matter, boy. There are— Mira, say something.”

“I’m afraid this matter escapes my expertise, my love,” Mira said with a pleasant smile. “I know beasts, not the politics of war.”

“All men are beasts,” Robert grumbled, his voice rising.

“Don’t include our little Enel in that.”

“He’s a boy!”

Robert looked ready to stand, but instead inhaled deeply through his nose and forced himself back down.

“I am taller than most children my age in Widow’s Wall,” Enel said quietly, his spoon clacking against the wooden bowl. “Stronger too. Gregor says I’m worth a hundred men already. I’m almost as tall as he is.”

Robert said nothing after that.

He merely closed his eyes and tapped a finger against the table, the soft rhythm echoing through the hall. Mira opened her mouth to speak, but Robert raised a hand before she could.

“That is enough.” His voice came out lower this time. Firmer. “We will speak of this again when you are of proper age.”

“But—”

“Enel.” Mira gently placed a hand over his.

He still wanted to press further. He could feel the questions scratching at the back of his throat. But when his mother shook her head and motioned for him to continue eating, the only thing he could do was lower his eyes and finish the rest of his supper in silence.

“May I be excused, Father?” he asked, lowering his spoon while bowing his head.

“Enel…” Mira sighed. She looked at her husband, who seemed to have no plan on saying anything else. “...Get dressed in your training garbs and wait for me in the courtyard.”

“Of course, Mother.” Enel stood up, bowing once more to both his parents before leaving the dining hall, taking his plate with him to wash.

And as soon as he was gone, Robert pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long, exasperated breath.

“We’ve sheltered that boy rotten, my love,” he whispered. “He is three and ten now, and yet acts like a child—some are already whispering that the boy is a fool. And his tall stature does not help.”

“It was your decision that he would not be allowed outside the walls until he is of age,” Mira quickly disputed.

“We decided that together!”

“I said that he should not go to the Academy—you were the one who decided to trap him here.”

“What was I supposed to do. Let him out there?” Robert pointed at the weathered window. “The boy will be feasted on! The kingdom will take him from us because they would think he’s one of the Blessed. Worse, they will find out he is not. That he… he is not—”

“He is our son.” Mira grabbed Robert’s hand. “Our son.”

“Mira…” Robert also held his wife’s hand. He caressed it, gently brushing his thumb on the deep, circular burnt marks on her palm. “...Do we—do I even deserve to be a father to such a wonderful child?”

***

An hour later, Enel stood in the courtyard.

He had already changed into simpler clothes—clothes rough enough that he looked poorer than most of the common folk living beyond the estate walls. Dirt stained the hems of his trousers, and the fabric around the knees had nearly worn through entirely.

A wooden sword rested in his hand. And without breathing, he lunged.

The stone beneath his feet cracked as he launched forward, his blade slicing through the air… toward his mother.

Mira caught the strike with her own wooden sword, the sharp crack of wood ringing across the courtyard. Sweat instantly formed across her brow as she pushed against the blow, though her eyes were focused less on Enel and more on the thin fractures spreading through the wood of his blade.

Still, even with the force, she pulled back her other hand and started writing in the air, catching it, and slapping it onto her other fist.

[Urthmother, Buf!], she breathed out before the muscles on her arm compressed and hardened.

“Too strong, Enel!” She stepped back with a strained breath. “Again!”

Enel also leaped backward, now staring at his mother’s arm that seemed like they were now gleaming like smooth iron. He squinted at this, then also tried to write the very same gestures Mira did in the air.

“U-urtmudre, Buf…?” he whispered, but even after a good second, nothing happened at all.

“Stop getting distracted!” This time, it was Mira who charged at him, but he just watched as she got closer and closer, and closer. He let out a small sigh, closing his eyes for a moment before turning his attention back to his mother.

He leaped back, avoiding her attack at the last second and letting her sword brush past his nose.

“Enel! Attack!” Mira roared, and Enel happily complied.

This time, Mira redirected the strike instead of meeting it head-on, letting his blade slide past hers with only the faintest scrape of wood.

“Better,” she said with a nod. “Again.”

The training continued for another hour.

Unlike most forms of sword practice, however, Enel was not trying to strike harder. With every exchange, the sounds echoing through the courtyard became softer and softer. Heavy blows became controlled ones. Cracks became whispers.

Until eventually, even the sound of wood colliding disappeared entirely.

“Stop…” Mira exhaled, raising a trembling palm while her other arm hung limply at her side. “I think… we’re done for tonight.”

She then threw her sword down. The wooden blade punched through the ground like it was just made of fat. "That's enough for—"

Enel raised his own sword, seemingly wanting to mirror her action.

"No!”

His mother’s shout froze him in place. He looked at her, blinking several times in confusion.

“What did I tell you about handling objects with care?”

“Y-yes, Mother.” Enel bowed his head, then slowly crouched and placed his sword gently on the ground.

Mira let out a long breath, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Her eyes turned as wide as they could be as she imagined what could have happened if Enel had been allowed to do that.

Enel, who had no idea what her mother was thinking, pointed at her, his teeth showing in a wide grin. "You look funny, Mother."

She stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter.

“Do I?” she asked, and Enel nodded several times before joining her in laughter.

When the laughter faded, Mira's expression grew serious again.

"Lift that boulder again for me. The largest one." She pointed to a massive stone near the courtyard's edge, easily the size of a small house. "Time to test your full strength again."

Enel's face lit up. He jogged toward the boulder like a child, and due to his tall stature, he looked quite… awkward. Without so much as a grunt of effort, he wrapped his arms around a convex part of the stone and lifted it clear off the ground, his boots slowly digging into the ground from the weight.

“You…” Mira's eyes went wide once more, and her hands began to shake. "That's... that's enough."

Enel dropped the boulder. The impact sent tremors through the ground, rattling the manor's tattered windows and causing loose stones to rain from the walls.

He bounced back to her, his excitement obvious from each step.

"Am I as strong as the heroes from the old songs now, Mother?” he asked.

Mira forced a smile, a sound escaping her lips as she swallowed hard.

"No, my sweet boy. If someday, someone claiming to be a hero approaches you—you pay your respects, and you run, understood?" She reached out and touched his shoulder.

“But—”

“Enel.”

“...Yes, Mother,” Enel whispered, the sigh escaping him filled with disappointment.

"Now, go wash yourself."

"Will you brush my hair after?" And that disappointment did not even last a second.

Mira looked up at her son’s face, and her smile became genuine this time.

"Of course. Then sleep after." She laughed, the sound lighter now. "Taller than your mother but still can't manage your own hair. And speaking of not managing by yourself, why did Lamb not join us tonight?”

“Ansel… got called into war.”

“Oh…” Mira finally realized why Enel had suddenly asked his earlier question. “I will… visit them tomorrow. Now, off you go. Go. You stink.”

“Yes!” Enel rushed back to the manor, and Mira watched him disappear through the heavy wooden doors.

"How big will you grow if you're already near a man's height?" she whispered.

But as soon as Enel vanished from sight, her body began to shake. Not just her hands now—her whole frame trembled like a leaf in a storm.

She gripped her swollen, aching hand, shaking her head back and forth.

But the pain wasn't what made her wince. The pain didn’t matter, and she even pressed her palms together and lifted her eyes to the darkening sky.

"Please," she whispered. "I pray to all the gods. Not yet. He is not ready for what awaits him outside. And the kingdom… the kingdom is not ready for him. I pray to you, Urtmother. Do not let him meet a Hero, they will try to kill him. They will fail, but Enel would be so confused…

…and angry they even sought to try.”