Fresh Start

He struggled to fully grasp the sounds he had just heard, like faint whispers carried by the breeze. Upon closer attention, those hushed tones seemed to intertwine with the gentle sobs of a beloved child. The woman's voice appeared to be consoling him with words of utmost tenderness.

In a surprising moment, the man felt the delicate touch of her hand on his skin, notably on his forehead, where a loving kiss had landed. "My dearest Alorian," she whispered, "Mother's love will forever embrace you."

"Alorian, huh? What a wonderful name."

All he knows is that he saved the woman from the reckless truck and these voices filled his mind. He can't even see what's beyond the darkness, except he can still feel some touches. He tries to calm down and flash the memories he has experienced. However, he still doesn't even remember his name.

"How was it?" Now a serious male voice resonated, causing the conversations around him to silence.

"A male, sweetheart," the woman with a delicate voice responded. "Why didn't you come here and talk to him?"

Alorian, the newborn child, awaits what the mature man wants to tell as the sound of his footsteps draws closer. Now, a large and rough palm touches the child's forehead, murmured right beside his ear.

"Conquer the world, son." That's what he says. Short and clear. "I need to attend the conference with the other kingdoms, Amarta," he told once more and a sound of kiss could be heard before his existence vanished.

"Oh dear child, forgive your father's behavior," the woman attempts to reassure. "He's too ambitious and excessive in certain matters."

"Mother believes that in the future ahead you'll become an incredible child apart from what he said," adds Amarta and attaches her face to Alorian's. "Are you famished?"

She slides off his beautiful red clothes, revealing her huge chest that flickers under the lantern that makes her mounds waxed. She repositioned her bust for the child to be able to reach.

He sucked it so intensely that makes her a little shocked and smiled, "Oh, sweetie, you must be tired from all that battle to be born, isn't it?"

"Your Highness, allow me to check your condition," said the woman who was dressed in full white robes, like a cleric.

Amarta nodded, sweat pouring down her shape, causing her elegant attire to damped. "Runa, I need to rest for a bit."

"Before that, Your Highness, I recommend changing into warmer clothes," the cleric, Runa, uttered beside her. "You feel so cold, and blood is still flowing from your vulva."

Amarta didn't respond, still considered it. "Alright, I didn't want to be in this unclean situation when they stand assembled here."

Alorian found himself in a state of helplessness, unable to open his eyes to a world that felt different, leaving him somewhat bewildered. Yet, like any caring mother, Amarta intuited her child's needs.

However, amid the soothing ambiance, he began to discern an intriguing conversation unfolding around him—a discussion about his future. Initially, he paid little attention, but as time passed, his curiosity steadily grew.

"Amarta, the child needs to do all the trials," said the woman who appeared slightly older than Amarta, her blonde hair tied in a short style that reached her shoulders. "It's our tradition to make him fit to the throne."

"I understand, but, should we talk about it later?" Amarta answered, his clothes were now different but still clouded in crimson. "No need to rush it!"

"You do know our world is holding a knife at its back!" Now an old woman interrupted, her hair was almost all white. "Bless the God that Artonius can handle the cause."

"Grandmother, please," the mother of Alorian whined, her expression implored. "It's not fair that Alorian does the trials at thirteen while the others in their fifteen!"

"What's the difference, if he failed like all his brothers?" The Elder seized their distance and was now right in front of her labor bed. "We could not allow us to lose our heir and honor!"

A shout resonated through the room and she still had a voice like thunder. Everyone stood speechless right now, all the women in there, the sisters of Amarta, didn't speak a single word after the wrath of this old woman. Frustration can be looked out of her face, an uneasiness that never can be ceased.

"We have to test him faster, Amarta," added the elder before turning back. "Because we are able to manage the alternatives later on."

Before she walked further, she halted and murmured, "I don't know why he refuses to have concubines. It's such a loss."

As the old woman is out of the area, Amarta's sisters come at her with tears that already flow down her cheeks. One of them with her curled blonde hair, was a kid, checked out the child's condition around Amarta's hands, and touched his face with a soft caress.

"You're so cute, brother," she said with a smile, her interest evident as she looked at him closer. Her siblings of the same age stood beside her.

"Patience, Amarta, we don't have a choice," stated the short-haired woman and enfolded her right hand around her sister's shoulder, providing a warm embrace of affection. "You don't have a choice."

"If Alorian is the one," now the wavy-haired woman that flows down to her medium mounds and beautiful face uttered. "The throne of Caeloria is secured, none shall snatch it."

Alorian, in his infant state, struggled to comprehend the gravity of the discussions swirling around him concerning the throne. Shrouded in darkness, he could only catch fragments of their conversations, with much of it centering on the future heir of the illustrious Caeloria Kingdom.

Therefore, he found himself reborn into the realm of nobility, their intense focus on his destiny and his abrupt initiation into the trials left him puzzled.

In this uncertainty, he couldn't fathom why they were so eager and, in some cases, insistent about pushing him to undergo trials, even if it defied the recommended minimum age. He was left with many questions and an uncertain future, but he knew that time would reveal the truth about the challenges he would face.

"Alorian, eat well, sweetie!" the woman with her hair tied spoke and sat in front of him, concerned about her child who was still dumbfounded. "Is it not delicious?"

Alorian never thought he would have the opportunity to feast like this. His wide eyes took in all the food, intensifying his appetite. As a child who had known hunger, who had struggled to fill his stomach for days, this sudden abundance felt like an incredible gift, causing his eyes to well up with tears. When he turned his gaze towards his mother, Amarta, he couldn't help but break down.

In his previous life, his mother had treated him with indifference, immersed in her sexual intercourse with other men, scolded him without reason, showed no affection, and left him in terrible situations. He felt like a discarded part of society, crushed by his own family as though he were a burden. Yet in his second life, things were different.

A mother who loves him so much and desires his existence.

"Mother," he cried and his cute lips trembled. "Thanks for all of this."

Amarta was startled to see her child wept, didn't expect it would come to that. "Dear, are you alright?"

He nodded with tears streaming down his cheeks, eating the bulk chicken and a flavorsome soup. After he devoured the dinner in his mouth, he stuttered, "I never tasted a food like this, not ever once."

Amarta rushed to the side of her child, who was seated across the long dining table surrounded by their families, all gathered for a shared meal. Without hesitation, the Queen knelt, aligning herself with Alorian, whose tear-streaked face revealed the depth of their emotions. With warmth, Amarta enveloped her child in a solace embrace, her hand softly caressing his back.

"It's alright, sweetheart" Amarta's soothing words filled the air. "You can eat as much as you want."

Upon hearing her mother's words, Alorian held to her even tighter. Their moment remained hidden from the others present, who observed the scene without understanding its significance. With the absence of Alorian's father, the banquet took on a different atmosphere.

"See, our kingdom is a founder of this innovative invention," stated Amarta now dressed in white clothes, reciting historical stories about the Empire and their domain while Alorian sat on her thighs. "Your father tries to maintain it to not fall to the false management."

"I see it now, Mother," he responded and turned his head above, to Amarta. "But, why would he want me to conquer the world? Is it the Empire he referred to?"

Amarta's demeanor shifted, and she smiled as she spoke, "He meant that he wants you to become strong. Don't you want that too?"

Alorian released his grip on her and stood up, striking a pose like a brave knight. He then picked up his wooden sword from the nightstand and declared, "Do not fear, Mother! I will protect you, no matter the circumstances! For I am the successor to the throne!"

She chuckled and made him even more beloved. "I love you, Mother!" he hopped and landed on her, causing her to lose her balance and fall onto the bed.

"Oh, dear, aren't you so sweet to me?" Amarta looked at her child who stuck to her bosom like an infant, so firm that it seemed inseparable. "I love you too."