Xavier opened his eyes, a smile drawn on his face. It wasn’t an ordinary day. Although he woke up an hour earlier, he did not get up from the little bed he shared with his other two brothers. 

He imagined how things would have been any other day. By this time, he would have been forced to get up; his brothers, his father, or his mother would have called him a lazy bum and would have kicked him out of bed. After crossing the curtain, he would sit at the table and share with the rest of his family a piece of hard bread and oatmeal. On a good day, the oatmeal would have some milk on it, although it was actually more water than milk.

After the sad breakfast, they would return to the hard work of farming the field. At the tender age of sixteen, he was considered a man, and he was expected to yield to physical labor as such. You have to grow up fast when you are poor, and his family was very poor, just like all the families on the border between the two kingdoms. Besieged by wars, every five or ten years they lost everything again, no matter how hard they tried.

But soon things would be different. While he was lying in bed, he dreamed of a brighter future. He would no longer have to see the worried faces of his parents as the time to pay taxes approached. Every year, the situation became more harsh and unsustainable. One silver coin for the royalty and another for the nobility, owners of the lands and their lives.

He recalled the times when his parents had to go hungry to pay taxes. Rationing the food in a year of poor harvest was absolute bullshit; however, they had no choice. Unlike their neighbors, the Vonders had no daughters. Sometimes poor families paid by sending their daughters to “work” as maids in the houses of the nobles, or they did something “nice” for some of the knights who acted as tax collectors in exchange for a little more time.

This was impossible for the Vonders. Either they paid, or their property was seized. If they accumulated too many debts, they could lose their house, and then it would be even harder to survive. Even with a roof over their heads, life was difficult. Living as a wild man was not an option; the monsters and wild animals that lived in the mountains and forrest were a death sentence, and that was even better than being a vagabond in the streets of Humol. It was a small town, but it was full of criminals, mercenaries, and all sorts of people of dubious reputation.

As he wandered through these painful and sad memories, Xavier returned to a more pleasant one. Something became stiff in the lower half of his body. He remembered something he saw a few months ago. Renor, the leading knight of Humol, and his officers had come to the village to collect taxes. His neighbors did not have the coins to pay, and their eldest daughter, Trina, offered herself to “entertain” the gentleman in exchange for some extra time.

Xavier and his brother Ferol hid behind the window of the girl’s room and enjoyed the show. Trina was the fifth of seven brothers, a well-rounded girl with a pretty face who was quite beautiful, taking into consideration the misery in which they lived in Humol. It was not her first time offering “services” to the knight in exchange for some preferential treatment. Both the girl and Renor knew that the little devils were spying on them, but no one said or did anything about it.

This was the poor man’s life: to get up early, to work until the hands bleed, to go through hunger and misery, and even to sell one’s body if it was necessary. All in order to survive another day and keep a roof over their heads.

But no more; things would be different. Xavier smiled again when he got up from the bed, crossed the curtain separating the tiny bedroom from the wider room that was the kitchen, dining room, living room, and everything else, and sat down at the rustic wooden table. The family had already gone out to do their homework; his father and brother toiled in the field, and his mother was probably doing chores. On the table, a piece of bread and a wooden cup full to the brim of oatmeal-no one had touched them. This was not the usual thing. If you were late to the table, your brothers would steal some food from you; that is just how things went.

This was almost another world; the Xavier from today was different than the one from yesterday. It all happened at midnight that same day. He got up to go to the toilet, which was outside the house. At first, he didn’t realize what was going on; he thought it was raining, so the ground was wet. It was not that strange to see drips on the old roof; in fact, he was convinced that when it rained, there was more water inside the house than outside. When he noticed his cold hands and the air currents around him, he realized that something was going on. The curtains that divided the rooms continued to move, and a strange but pleasant sensation passed through his body.

MAGIC.

There was magic in the house. There was magic in him.

‘Dad, Ma, wake up,’ an excited Xavier called.

‘What’s going on?’ His father woke up alarmed as he tried to light the oil lamp.

‘Magic!’ replied Xavier.

‘Magic?’ The father, unbelieving, looked at the boy. At that time, the oil lamp was already lit, and the whole family was in the main room.

Everyone was surprised by what was happening to Xavier. His hands were covered in frost, the floor was wet after his footsteps, a slight stream of air moved the fabrics in the room and his clothes, and he had no shadow. The light of the lamp did not manage to cast a shadow of the boy. The faces of shock turned to joy among all the members of the family.

‘A talent, a talent!’ said the mother. ‘My child is a talent!’ she repeated with joy as she embraced Xavier with all her strength.

‘Shh!’ the father called to the silence after recovering from the surprise. ‘We should be careful; let’s keep calm and not wake up the neighbors,’ he said, trying to keep his cool.

He looked again at the boy’s hands; the frost was still there. Alongside his bare feet, the rock sweated, and small drops of water formed. Despite calling for silence and calm, the father embraced his son as he cried.

Everyone knew what this meant; every person in the world had a small chance to turn into a magician at the age of sixteen. Xavier turned out to be one of those blessed by nature; he had a talent for magic, had “awakened”, and would probably become a magician. This immediately put him and his family in a position of nobility, which gave them multiple benefits: Their house became their property, and they would no longer have to pay taxes to the nobles, only to the royalty. In addition, a magician could become a member of the royal court of magicians, of the regulators, or enroll in the Dinasty Army; he could have a high salary and an assured future. Not just that. Even if anything happened to Xavier, the title of nobility remained. It was known that families with a mage among their members were more than twenty percent likely to have another magician among their descendants; there was magic in the bloodline, and that had its value, although the fertility of the wizards was lower than that of the rest of the people.

Everybody looked at Xavier for a long time. The frost in his arms continued to rise, then it began to melt, and his body became hot. The highest fever he had ever had lasted for an hour, yet he felt better than ever. It was two hours before dawn when all the manifestations of magic disappeared. Everyone went back to bed to try to sleep. His parents couldn’t; there was too much excitement. Xavier’s brothers fell asleep immediately. It took Xavier a short time to surrender to fatigue.

Yeah, now everything would be different. While Xavier was eating, his mother entered the house.

‘How is my little mage?’ The mother asked, smiling and giving him a kiss on the forehead.

The boy only smiled as he swallowed the bread and oatmeal. There was no need to eat so fast without his brothers nearby, but habits die hard.

‘Wash yourself, change your clothes, and put on your New Year’s trousers,’ his mother ordered. ‘Your father has already gone to see the lord of the village; he will bring someone to identify you as a talent.’ Xavier’s mother was all smiles, dreaming of a bright future. She turned around and returned to the kitchen.

Xavier had just eaten and now really had nothing to do; he went to look outside. The sun had already risen and began to unleash his fury. In the distance, the silhouettes of those working in the field could be seen. Even from this distance, he managed to recognize his brothers and some of his neighbors. The work was hard, heavy, and exhausting; the sun burned the skin while the sweat soaked the clothes, making them stick to the body. After work, fatigue, the burning of the forearms, and the discomfort of the back were the rewards.

The village of Battey was miserable, and the house in which he lived was decent for the standard of the area. The Vonders had lived there for several generations. It was one of the few houses with some walls made of stone; the kitchen and the main room were solid rock. The rest was wood. His father and grandfather had built it to the best of their ability before the latter died, which explained the poor symmetry of the building. Most of the houses in the village were made of wood; the most miserable ones were made from clay and straw.

‘We shall soon be able to live better,’ said Xavier to himself.

He left the house and went to the well to draw water and bathe while thinking about his future.

**** Sorry, I have to cut the chapter in half. They are too long for tapas.