Machinist of Mana

My mother found me once more in the sword training room, sitting quietly and looking at the many different medals. I'd been coming here when I could over the past month or so, though with how all the staff were keeping an eye on me that was getting to be a pain.

Of note was that whenever I disappeared Sinea was sent to check the back corridors and niches. Not where the family was supposed to be, because her clothing was generally unacceptable to be presented 'in public' around them. Personally I found that to be hilarious, and so if I happened to be back there I'd let her find me. I'd seen a few of the maids poking fun at her and how she'd 'pulled me astray' or some such nonsense. That amused me even more, for goodness sake I was two.

“Waited until Mrs. Lutte's day off I see,” mother commented.

“Didn't want to make trouble,” I told her.

“How thoughtful, what about the other maids that are supposed to be watching when I'm not around?”

“Don't know them,” I pointed out.

Mother had never been much for baby talk, and since I understood her just fine most of the time had started to talk to me more like an adult. If nothing else that was appreciated.

“Percival, in the future, just tell them you want to come here. You're allowed in this room, but not alone.” Her piece said she came to pick me up once more.

“Were you a fighter?” I asked, pointing to the trophies.

“Why ask me,” she asked.

“Those are girls, not boys, and you're a girl,” I said as I pointed to one of the little women atop a golden award.

“I am a girl, yes. When I was younger I was a fencer,” she answered.

“A fighter?” I'd not before heard the word 'fencer' in this life.

“No, fencer. Fencing is a sport, not war. I did it for fun, so did others.”

“Will you teach me?” I tried, it might be good to learn, if for no other reason than to protect myself.

“When you're older. Those like us still use it sometimes if we have to fight.”

“Like us?” I knew I was different, but maybe I could get her to explain how.

“Strong, that's our magic. We're strong and tough, and we can see and hear things others can't. Your father has magic too, he can make things happen by thinking them, and some make them happen by singing, and some by believing them to be right. You and me though Percival, we're strong and fast.”

“Can I learn to be like dad?” I asked.

“No, you can't. We are what we are my son, and there's nothing wrong with it.” There was something a bit more in that statement, some old hurt, but I had the feeling it went deeper than just being strong.

I patted mom's shoulder, it just seemed the right thing to do at the moment. “It's okay.”

“It is, but you wandering off isn't Percival. I've got guests coming in just an hour and can't have you making a mess.” I hated guests, I was too young to participate in their dinners, and was so banished to the upstairs, where I was watched like a hawk.

“Boo!” I said, unhappy about that prospect.

“Tell you what, behave tonight, and I'll take you somewhere fun tomorrow, somewhere you've never been,” she offered.

“I agree!” I may have been a troublemaker, and may hold to my own form of right and wrong, but I was also easily bribable, and being two meant that I sometimes wanted an extra nap.

She laughed with a shake of her head and took me upstairs.

The next morning Mrs. Lutte was back, and in action. I had surprise guests too, in the form of my paternal grandparents. I saw them so little that I barely recognized them. They decided to join me and my nanny in the nursery while mother prepped for the day, it seemed some emergency had come up. Of course Mrs. Lutte was there, along with her daughter, who was never far from her side.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Lutte said as a maid came by to ask her something. “Seems they can't find the stroller, what a mess.”

“Go and help them dear, we can watch the children for a moment,” grandma told her, when she hesitated my grandma continued. “Goodness, it won't be my first time, go. You'll be better for it than some cleaner will,” before shooing her off.

Grandpa was trying to play with me, some game with blocks. He seemed a nice sort, with a kind smile and bushy eyebrows. Not as enthusiastic as my maternal grandfather, but a good guy. While he did so his wife went over to the crib where Kaylee was sleeping.

“That's Kaylee,” I told her.

“I am aware Percival,” she looked conflicted as she stood over the sleeping babe, eyes sad.

She knew, they both knew, and now they were alone with a child who many might consider a stain on their family. I didn't know what this society required, or what it expected. On Earth there had been times and places where such things had gone wrong, terribly wrong. The powerful could often get away with it, and she was. None of that mattered to me though, that girl was my sister, and no one would hurt her while I was around.

“Mother says don't touch her. So, Do. Not. Touch. Her.” I didn't bother keeping the steel out of my voice, even if it was odd coming from so small a child.

She snapped, head turning to me as a gasp escaped her lips, her husband seemed completely taken aback. I felt something pulsing, pushing from my body like water boiling to the surface as I locked my eyes on her. There was recognition there, she saw my legs, coiled under me and ready to spring. If she tried hurting that girl I'd be on her like white on rice in a glass of milk in a snowstorm.

“Calm down boy,” the older man said. “Everything's fine.” He was moving to try something too, in case I did act.

Of course it was that moment that Mrs. Lutte decided to come back, appearing in the door.

“Silly thing got put under a bed,” she announced, not realizing the tension in the room. It broke a bit at her comment.

“Ah, yes, such things happen.” Grandma gave one more look at the baby, then at me, then at Mrs. Lutte. “Dear,” she said with some weight. “If anything should happen, if you ever find yourself in need of help, I want you to come find us. Understand?”

Mrs. Lutte froze for a moment, processing the words and actions. I could see it there on her face, the understanding, the pain, the shame. Everyone in the room understood what was being offered, even if I wasn't supposed to get it, I'd wager my grandparents thought I might. She bit her lip, turning her eyes away for just a second before propriety took over.

“Thank you for the offer my lady, I'll keep that in mind,” she finally said, still not looking up.

“Good, why don't you stay here and clean up while we take Percival downstairs. Where was the stroller?”

“In the hallway my lady,” Mrs. Lutte said, her voice just slightly hollow, dejected at what had been revealed.

I was picked up and carried by my grandpa as we walked, but I didn't miss grandma stopping and touching my nanny's shoulder before whispering in her ear. “I don't blame you dear, it's his fault, not yours, and he knows it.”

There was a stifled sound of weeping behind as the door was closed, and my grandpa turned to look down at me, grandma still a bit far back.

“I want you to promise me something Percival,” he asked, eyes serious.

“What's that?” I asked, curious as to what he wanted and more than a bit suspicious.

“Grow up to be a man who'll make me as proud of you as I just was.” I could see the shining of water in his eyes as he spoke, his emotions pouring through.

“I'll try my best,” I told him solemnly.

“Good lad, good lad.”