More years passed. Lucian watched from his window as the maids prepared decorations, carrying fabric and carved ornaments across the courtyard.
Right. His eighth birthday was almost here, only two days away.
In this kingdom, turning eight and turning sixteen were kinda special, each celebrated differently. The age of eight was a day of gratitude for life, and sixteen marked the beginning of adulthood.
He had been so absorbed in reading that he had completely forgotten it was coming.
Mother had recently allowed him to use the old study room, though she still called it inappropriate for a child. It held strange items and old books filled with subjects most parents would never allow near their children. It took Lucian years of begging and persistent requests to earn her approval.
Now he spent most of his time here, and it had become his own little treasure trove.
Items lay scattered across the table, and books lined the shelves, some marked with runes. He returned to the journal on his desk.
It told the story of Aldric Von Lockewood, his grandfather, once the Duke of the East, and rumored to be favored by the Mighty Sovereign. His life, missions, and sacrifices were written within its pages, along with the battles he fought and the lives he buried beneath the weight of duty.
Unfortunately, his grandfather had died before he was born.
After a couple of minutes, there was a knock at the door. He closed the book and went to open it.
Belle stepped into the room, her emerald eyes scanning the shelves and scattered books before she fixed her gaze on him.
"Hey! Mother told me to bring you to town to get something."
She sighed loudly. "Everyone's busy, yet you're always stuck in this room without a care in the world. What do you even do here? It's just books! Mother's worried about you, you know!"
He sighed. "Alright, I'll talk to her later. So, stop nagging me."
"Hmph. You better. I'll be waiting outside, so go change your clothes."
Although she was right, he didn't really go outside or interact with other people much. His world revolved around his family and the servants in the manor. He had no friends, which made him the opposite of his older sister, who was bright and friendly.
He didn't mind the quiet, though. Solitude felt safer. Still, sometimes, seeing how easily Belle made friends, he wondered what that was like.
He stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his clothes and running a hand through his black hair. As he stared into his unusual crimson eyes, he remembered what his parents had told him, that he had inherited them from his grandfather.
Looking at his small hands, he clenched them into fists, missing the strength and size of his old body. It felt strange to be so small after all those years living as someone else.
Once he was ready, he headed to the front gate, where a tall, serious-looking man in a reinforced leather coat stood guard. A prominent scar marked his left cheek. Lucian smiled and greeted him warmly.
"Good afternoon, Sir Roswell."
"Good afternoon, young lord. I heard you're also heading to town today."
"Yeah, Mother asked me to go. So, how are you liking it here so far?"
He nodded thoughtfully. "I'm still adjusting, but the training grounds and the people here are nice."
From what Lucian had heard, Tyrion Roswell was an old friend of his father from their academy days. Last week, Father hired him as their guardian. They said he was incredibly strong, comparable to Father himself. He would have loved to see them spar, but he doubted it would happen anytime soon.
A carriage rolled up to the front, and Belle appeared, walking briskly toward them in a green-and-white dress with a ribbon tied neatly at the collar, her expression impatient.
"Hey, you're late!" she yelled. "We need to hurry."
Lucian raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm not, you just got here. What exactly are we going to get?"
She sighed dramatically. "Just get in the carriage. You'll know when we get there."
Deciding not to argue, Lucian dropped the subject and climbed into the carriage beside her. The driver gave a soft command, and the horses began to trot, pulling them toward the busy town of Linberg. He never won arguments with her anyway.
. . .
As they rode, Belle reached into her purse and handed him a colorful puzzle cube.
"Here. I still can't figure this one out," she grumbled, folding her arms.
"I told you, you have to start with this part first," Lucian said, pointing to one side.
Belle leaned closer, watching intently as he rotated the cube, aligning the pieces step by step. After a few twists, the colors clicked into place.
"Done," he said, handing it back with a grin.
Belle stared at the solved cube in awe, then back at him. "How do you come up with so many of these things?" she muttered, though curiosity flickered in her eyes.
"Reading books," he replied with a shrug.
Of course, he couldn't tell her they were ideas from his past life. He had started building things like this to keep himself occupied, since there was not much else in the manor to do with his hands. Belle often borrowed them, even if she pretended not to care.
"I prefer swords over books," she said, tossing the cube into her bag. Then her face lit up. "Oh! Guess what, I heard Roswell's going to start training me next week!"
"Really? That's amazing! Can I join the training too?" he asked, his excitement rising.
Belle raised an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. "I don't know. Maybe I should ask Father later."
"Please. Please!" He clasped his hands together, refusing to let age hold him back.
She smirked, clearly enjoying the sight of him begging. "Alright, I'll ask him. But don't get your hopes up, little brother. You're still a weakling."
He rolled his eyes at her teasing but couldn't stop the grin spreading across his face.
. . .
When they reached town, the sharp smell of salt and fish hit him instantly. Dockworkers shouted orders, carts rumbled across the cobblestone roads, and colorful stalls lined the streets.
Linberg sat at the southern end of Valeria, the last territory before the sea. Mountains and hills blocked northern part that made land transport dangerous and expensive, so almost everything the town had come off the sea.
With Sir Roswell beside them, they entered a large building where his mother's order was waiting. An employee greeted them.
Belle spoke first. "We're here to pick up Mother's order."
The employee checked her notebook. "Found it! I'll bring it out. This may take a few minutes."
"That's alright, we'll pick it up later," Belle said.
As they were about to leave, a girl with brown hair and bright yellow eyes appeared and greeted his sister.
"Belle! It's so good to see you!" she said with a cheerful smile.
"Mary! Nice to see you too," Belle replied, then grinned as she looked at him. "This is my little brother, Lucy. Isn't he cute?"
Ignoring her, he introduced himself. "Good to meet you, Lady Mary. You can call me Lucian."
"It's great to finally meet you, Lucian. Belle talks about you often," Mary said with a friendly smile.
"Really? I hope she hasn't said anything too bad," he replied, narrowing his eyes at Belle.
Mary giggled. "Not at all! You don't come to town often, so it's nice to finally see you."
"You're right. I'll try to visit more often."
Mary Goldhart was the daughter of the man who owned the Goldhart Trading Company, one of the most influential businesses in Valeria. Lucian knew she and Belle were best friends, and Belle had mentioned her a few times before, though he had never paid much attention or seen her face until now.
Belle interrupted, "Enough talking. Mary, want to go to Lana's Pastry while we wait?"
"Sure! They just got a new cake," Mary replied, her eyes lighting up.
"Really? I can't wait to try it," Belle said.
Mary turned back to him. "Lucian, are you coming?"
"No, I'm going to check out some books," he replied.
The two of them left together, laughing as they walked toward the street.
Roswell looked at him and spoke. "I'll come with you."
"It's fine. The bookstore is just across the road. Keep an eye on Belle."
He hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. But don't wander."
. . .
Lucian stepped into the bookstore. A suspicious-looking man stood at the counter, his sharp eyes flicking up as Lucian approached.
"Do you have a detailed map of Valeria and the neighboring countries? And books on famous individuals, history, and similar topics?" He handed him a list he'd prepared.
The man raised a brow. "A bit young for these kinds of books, aren't you?"
Lucian grinned, tapping the small pouch of coins. "I've got money, mister. That's all that matters, right?"
He chuckled. "Fair enough, young patron. Let me see what I've got."
After a while, he returned with three books and two scrolls.
"This should cover everything."
"Thanks."
As Lucian paid and turned to leave, the man called out, "Please come again, young patron!"
He glanced back, half-expecting the man might overcharge him for being a child, but he seemed kinder than Lucian had assumed.
As he stepped back onto the bustling streets of Linberg, something felt off. People moved in small groups, speaking in hushed tones. A few glanced over their shoulders as they passed. Several knights patrolled the road on high alert, their hands closer to their weapons than usual. The crowd wasn't restless exactly. It was careful.
While walking, he noticed a commotion in a dark alley. Three boys were harassing a skinny girl, her back pressed against the wall.
He walked toward them and called out, "Hey, could you stop that?"
One of the boys sneered. "Ha! Why would we—"
The moment the boy opened his mouth, Lucian tightened his grip on the book bag and swung it at his face. The boy dropped hard onto the cobblestones, and the bag tore open, scattering books across the alley.
"Three on one?" He shook out his wrist. "What a scum."
"You little brat!" the bleeding boy yelled, furious as he prepared to strike him.
"Stop, or I'll scream," Lucian warned, pointing toward a guard nearby on the road.
The boy's friend grabbed him. "Let's go. He looks like he's from a noble family."
With a glare, the bleeding boy spat on the ground. "Lucky brat," he muttered before retreating down the alley with his friends.
Lucian bent down to gather his scattered books.
"I didn't need your help," the girl said, kneeling to assist him anyway. She looked like she was about his age.
She wasn't wrong. He couldn't have beaten them alone, and they probably would have come after her later. But he couldn't walk away.
In his past life, he had often seen beggars, the poor, and homeless people. He had rarely helped them, for many reasons. Thinking back now, he realized he had stepped in today mostly out of curiosity and maybe guilt. With his family name, talents, and memories, maybe he could change something, even just a little.
"These got dirty," he muttered, brushing off the books. "Here." He handed her some coins and a folded piece of paper.
"I can't," she started.
"Just take it. Trust me, you need it more than I do."
She peeked at the paper. "Lu… LuLu's School?"
"It's a place where you can learn and get free meals every weekend," he explained.
After a pause, she looked up at him. "Thank you, sir. What's your name?"
"Lucian," he replied with a small smile.
He watched her go, then turned back toward the main road.
Near the entrance of the building where Belle was waiting, a noticeboard hung against the wall. Wanted posters, job requests, the usual. But one corner was thick with papers pressed close together, edges overlapping.
Missing children.
He stepped closer. There were more than he expected for a town this size. Names, rough sketches, ages. Some of the postings looked recent. Others were older, the ink faded, the paper beginning to curl at the corners.
He stood there longer than he meant to. Then Belle's voice carried from inside the building, impatient and bright, and he turned away.