Chapter 2: Growing up in new circumstances

(A/N: I started working on this when I was in a manic episode and to be frank this whole story is probably pretty shit but I have tried to rewrite this chapter and will try to continue it.)

As if by fate, just as his father returned with a black rabbit, Azmuth noticed that the rain started to subside.

'I wonder what's the deal with my parents, father is dressed in some light armour and dark green rags, he looks pretty ragged and as if he worked his whole life, but mother wears some sort of dirty dress and she is paler than the silver that adorns her neck with that beautiful necklace'

The two started arguing with each other but Azmuth couldn't make heads or tails of it, besides the word "Shesmith" which he assumed is either the name of the book or their word for book.

'Why would they argue over a book, is it a forbidden book? Does my mother have access to forbidden knowledge?'

As he started talking to himself, mother hid her book among the dirt and sand of the cave whilst his father picked him up and they went through the dense forest located outside the cave through the pouring rain but his sickly little body could withstand no more and so he passed into the realm of dreams whilst his parents went on their merry way with their beloved child in hand

After a while he came to and found himself in some sort of villa and, it was now warm but so terribly loud, an older man with a stuffy beard whom he was going to know as his grandfather from now on was chastising his mother and father, but he could understand not why or what exactly he was saying, and at that moment he couldn't even understand who this man was, it was all so infuriating, not to mention the weird feeling of anger he just felt naturally when looking at the man, it was too much, he would have surely started breaking down and crying again but then he felt the graze of a panicked hand upon his cheek.

'I had almost forgotten I am not tall enough to see from this viewpoint anymore, so who is carrying me?' He said to himself whilst looking upwards at the young ginger haired figure 'By that outfit you'd think her to be some sort of maid but that's not possible, she looks to be much too young for that, she looks to be 15 maybe 16, I guess even in my old world from a historical point of view child labour was seen as immoral only recently but still, something is definitely off, not to mention the weird feeling I get from that old man'

His thoughts started to drift away, becoming a sort of endless ramble that had lost all its meaning, he could not even think in proper sentences as he tried to hang onto this conscious moment. and then he woke up again.

This time he was in what looked like an endless hallway, his mother was holding him in her warm embrace and trying to lull him back to sleep but the endless moans and screams of both pain and pleasure, could not stop and as such he too could not sleep. He just had to sit there in her arms for a while, for he could do nothing else. He gazed at the seemingly endless portraits of his grandpa, in this seemingly endless hallway with only one door at the end and at a weirdly everlasting moment he saw the ginger haired girl come out of the other side of that door, her clothes tattered and her face bruised.

His mother sat him down next to one of the paintings while she went to comfort the crying girl and it was at that moment that he managed to understand fully what had transpired. In a moment of rage that he would forevermore hold in his heart going from that moment forward, he pushed a candle into one of the portraits.

The servant and his mother started screaming for help as the fire had spread a lot quicker than he had imagined and now he felt his small body being roasted by the surrounding fire. His grandfather emerged out of the room, stomping with the might of storms and tornadoes by his side, and by a flick of his wrist he put out the fires and then he saw the small little boy that had been brought to his doorstep just a while ago standing next to a candle, and in a moment of rage he grabbed that little boy by his head and squeezed it so tight that his beady eyes started popping out of his cranium and in a moment of rage he mumbled some sort of incantation that the little boy tried to imitate and their incantation created a small purple flame around one of the old mans fingers, leaving him with a burn scar on his finger and the little boy with one on his left cheek, and it was at that moment that a vow that he made with himself was sealed by their mutual scars :

'I will mutilate and kill everyone of your wretched kin, all those who stumble upon my path with this cruelness you carry, so fuck off'

And so.. the days kept on going and going and the little boy too kept on growing and growing until one day when he was five and his grandfather was holding a going away party for himself, as he was going to move to the capital because of a recent change in status among the nobles.

"Sir the stag you requested we hunt is far too deep into the woods for us to hunt successfully" a guard told his grandfather.

"Just chase it towards the party and when he is nearby give me a pike, I'll handle the rest"

As the young lad was listening in on his grandfathers conversation he observed an old man dressed luxuriously, his clothes must have at the very least been as expensive as his mothers, he was intrigued by this man and so he went up to him and inquired:

"Who are you? My grandfather does not like to meet people who waste his time, and not too cause too much damage to your self esteem but you don't exactly look important." He said to the old man.

"Well, aren't you an exquisite young man, I am sure your grandfather detests you in his own way but I don't care enough to find out why so please bugger off before you shove that reason down my throat now will ya?"

"I am the grandson of the most important man you will ever dream of and can have you arrested at any time, so give me a reason to not do so, or I shall call the guards" 'God do I wanna punch myself right now, I can't believe I'm actually acting like some sort of spoiled brat, I always hated those kids, but besides its current practicality I must admit its actually quite therapeutic, besides the deep self hatred it causes within me'

"Look kid, I don't want to spend too much time with a little prick like you, if I show you a magic trick will you let me pass ?" The old man did not need a verbal answer as the suddenly gleaming eyes of the little boy were evident enough and so he pulled out a flower and said a word the little boy did not recognize, it must have been in the language of another country, but all of a sudden little bubbles of water came floating from the nearby fountain and the flower was magically revitalized.

'Holy fuck, holy fuck this man is a wizard, or maybe a magician I don't know but he can do magic' "Wait so how did you do it old man? Are you secretly a water spirit?" And that day, maybe the mage was feeling prideful in his spell or maybe he just wanted to share arcane knowledge with someone that was interested in it but whatever the reason he set this little boy on a never-ending journey of arcane power as he uttered the following words:

"Oh, this? Oh, you foolish boy it's just a silly little spell? Don't you know about magical scripts? Oh, who am I kidding of course such a dumb, dumb baby wouldn't know what a magical script is, here let me show you." He said, and then a grey panel filled with glowing golden words written on it appeared and at that moment the young boy realised something.

'Wait a minute, this "magical script" is literally just code! I don't recognize the coding language but this is certainly a sort of coding language!"