Growing pains

Growing pains...

The subsequent years posed numerous challenges for Jet.

Gradually, his curiosity was given the green light, allowing him to fill the gaps in his vocabulary and begin piecing together his family's history and the world he now inhabited.

He learned that they resided in the village of Lutia, a part of the larger county of Lustria, itself a fragment of the vast Griffon Kingdom.

His parents possessed a vague awareness of the neighboring lands, but their knowledge barely scraped the surface. Anything beyond their village held little relevance to them. To them, the king was more of a mythical creature, and their hopes and concerns were invested primarily in Count Lutia. This nobleman upheld justice, levied taxes, and graced Lutia's spring festival as the esteemed guest.

His parents shielded their children from subjects involving magic, war, or history. Instead, they shared tales better suited for bedtime stories, tales of lovely princesses, gallant heroes, and malevolent despots.

Jet's thirst for knowledge was far from quenched. He yearned to know the name of the planet, the state of its scientific advancement, its magical history, lore, and legends. Anything that could provide insight into what life here entailed was a treasure he desperately sought.

However, it was clear that his parents were privy to only the shallowest of information, rendering certain questions off-limits, even within the recesses of his thoughts.

Fortunately, the lineage of his family was easier to discern. Elina and Raaz had wed young, even by village standards, at the tender age of sixteen.

Raaz, being an only child, had inherited his father's farm, their current abode. Shortly after their union, Elina conceived, delivering twins—Eliza and Orpal.

The pattern repeated every two years, resulting in Raaz and Elina being twenty-five, Eliza and Orpal eight, Trion six, Tista four, and finally, Jet at two.

Much of his gleaned knowledge came indirectly, seeping from his siblings' questions. Jet's queries often amounted to little more than "What's this? Why's that?" Consequently, he gradually uncovered family dynamics and peculiarities.

Spending increased time with his family unveiled the reasons behind their continual struggles to make ends meet. Tista's congenital condition hindered her from engaging in any physical activities, rendering her susceptible to ailments.

Even a brisk pace left her breathless, and her intermittent coughs often escalated into violent fits when illness loomed. During such crises, one of her parents would rush to the village to summon Nana, the healer. However, Nana could merely alleviate symptoms, returning Tista to her baseline state without effecting a complete cure.

While check-ups bore moderate expense, treatment proved more financially taxing. Additionally, even when Raaz fetched the healer, the service incurred an added cost, as Nana's business was compromised by the trip.

Jet's heart ached for Tista. Though he hadn't spent significant time with her, her importance to both Elina and Eliza made her dear to him by extension.

Yet, he felt helpless, hindered by his inability to practice light and darkness magic. Light magic demanded precision and patience, but until he gained a firm grasp on its principles and the anatomical nuances of this world, he dared not toy with anyone's well-being.

Darkness magic posed another conundrum. Jet had only witnessed its usage once, its destructive potential glaringly evident. Moreover, he harbored reservations stemming from Earth's association of dark magic with malevolence and the undead.

Thus, Jet continued onward, yearning for eventual magic training and enduring the chaos that he now humorously labeled "family life."

He had to strike a delicate balance between liveliness and restraint, curiosity and moderation. Running was permissible, but venturing beyond the threshold was off-limits.

His parents, it seemed, were perpetually unpleased. If he settled in a corner, they'd fret over his silence or perceived lethargy. Should he attempt to assist, he'd face reprimands for being underfoot.

They rebuffed his attempts to learn chore magic—their term for minor spells—going so far as to forbid his pursuit.

Freedom outside necessitated company, proximity to the fireplace was taboo, and questions were confined within limits.

Essentially, his existence was one of constraint until he "grew up."

Jet found himself wanting to scream, "I might be young biologically, but I'm the oldest mind in this room, damn it!" Yet, he had to swallow his frustration and obey the constraints placed upon him.

The feud with Orpal continued, and Jet could sense the simmering resentment radiating from Trion on his brother's behalf. Evidently, Orpal was Trion's paragon, akin to what Eliza was to Jet—a role model.

Unlike Orpal, Trion didn't outright disregard him, not even in their parents' absence. However, Jet detected the formality behind Trion's occasional assistance; it was a mere facade, lacking true warmth.

In response, Jet began ignoring Trion in kind. "I've spent half my life fretting over dysfunctional family members. I've been down that road. So, thanks but no thanks. If you want to be a jerk, knock yourself out. I couldn't care less about you." This summed up Jet's sentiments, so he allowed tensions to simmer.

By the time he reached the age of three, he could bear it no longer. The biting ennui of winter months, during which he was virtually confined indoors, coupled with a persistent gnawing hunger, pushed him to the brink of insanity.

One stormy afternoon, with the family huddled around the fireplace, Elina was engaged in teaching her daughters the art of sewing. Raaz occupied himself instructing Orpal in woodcarving, while both Trion and Jet were relegated to the role of spectators, their young age preventing them from handling even a sewing needle.

Jet had already inquired about sewing, baffling his father and winning his mother's approval. "You're too young, and your hands lack the dexterity." Her explanation was sound; Jet's body felt more uncoordinated than his previous one, prior to his martial arts training. The mere thought of relinquishing all those muscle memory gains nearly brought him to tears.

Thus, Jet waited patiently for Raaz to conclude his tutorial with Orpal. Summoning his courage, he gathered his resolve and requested instruction in reading, writing, and arithmetic.

Raaz was taken aback. "You're far too young! Most children wait until the age of six to attend school and begin learning. Don't you think that's boring?" This philosophy had governed the choices of the men in their lineage for generations.

"Boring? What could possibly be more tedious than sitting around doing nothing? Like yesterday and the day before. And probably tomorrow too! Please, Daddy, give it a shot! I beg you, please, pretty please!"

Raaz struggled to decline. Jet had never made such a request before.

"Even when he's obviously hungry, if he notices there's no more food, he never asks for more." Raaz thought. "Is Jet just too good, or am I spoiling Orpal?"

Desperation gnawed at him, yet Elina's fixed gaze was the nail in his resistance's coffin. While she continued sewing, her hands deftly correcting her daughters, her eyes remained squarely on him.

"Damn it, what can I say? Learning doesn't involve hazardous tools... That's it! The tools! I'm such an idiot sometimes."

Meeting Jet's pleading eyes, Raaz's heart constricted, yet he replied, "I'm sorry, my son, we lack materials to write on. Hence, I cannot teach you."

Jet, foreseeing this objection, had a solution prepared. He retrieved the largest tray available, filling it with ash collected in a pail near the fireplace.

"Now we do! We can write as much as we want!" Raaz marveled at Jet's resourcefulness, a sentiment shared by Elina. However, Raaz noticed Elina's stare transition into a frown, her fingers flying at a pace indicating an impending storm of her own.

While a tempest raged outside, Jet couldn't escape the brewing tempest within. With a resigned sigh, he acquiesced.

"Where would you like to start?" Raaz could only hope that Jet's enthusiasm would wane swiftly, freeing him to return to his leisure.

"Math!" Jet answered promptly. Seating himself beside Jet, Raaz drew lines in the ash, and Jet's excitement was palpable.

The numerical symbols differed from the Arabic numerals, but their application was analogous. Calculation methods aligned too, and so Jet committed these new symbols to memory while practicing multiplication tables. Basic math was manageable in his mind, yet he aimed to etch these new symbols into his consciousness.

Having achieved this, Jet began fielding requests from his captivated audience. When Orpal's sarcastic challenge, "What's 124 times 11?" was issued, Jet coolly replied, "1364," leaving everyone stunned.

Elina's excitement couldn't be contained, and she embraced Jet in a bear hug. "My little prodigy! I'm bursting with pride!" In less than an hour, Jet had accomplished what would take others a full year. Eliza and Tista joined in, congratulating their young brother. Meanwhile, the male members of the family remained flabbergasted.

In rural areas, rudimentary counting skills were acquired mainly to avoid being swindled during transactions. Multiplication and division faded from memory as they held little practical use.

Reading and writing demanded more time but proved equally attainable. Jet recognized most words and their spelling, necessitating the memorization of the alphabet for him to read and write proficiently.

The family stood in awe, with Orpal standing apart, consumed by envy and disdain.