The year is 1147, the 23rd of the last month of winter.
The carriage wheels ground against gravel, then stopped. Nomay pressed her palm against the wooden door and pushed it open before the driver could climb down from his seat. Her boots met the earth, and she straightened, pulling her shawl tight against the wind that swept across the Finefield countryside.
The Chamber estate rose before her, three stories of pale stone with narrow windows that caught the afternoon light. Ivy climbed the eastern wall in thick ropes. Smoke curled from two chimneys. The grounds stretched in all directions—manicured hedges, gravel paths, a cobblestone wall that stretched all around the estate. Her belongings were few, fitting in a single bag.
A man emerged from the servants' entrance at the side of the manor. He was older, perhaps sixty, with silver hair combed back from a lined face. His posture was straight despite his years. He wore the dark coat and pressed trousers of a head butler.
"Miss Nomay?" His voice carried across the courtyard.
"Yes."
"Heinrich. I oversee the household staff." He gestured toward the entrance. "Welcome to the Chamber estate. I'll show you to your quarters and introduce you to Madam Chamber."
She followed him through a door that opened into a narrow corridor. The walls were whitewashed. The floor was clean stone. They passed a kitchen where two women worked at a long table, kneading dough. The scent of rising bread filled the air. One of the women glanced up, nodded, and returned to her work.
Heinrich led her up a staircase, through another corridor, and stopped at a door. "Your room. You'll share duties with Margaret, who assists with the children. Madam Chamber is expecting her third child within the month."
Nomay set her trunk inside the small room. A bed, a washstand, and a narrow window overlooking the gardens. Simple. Clean.
Come," Heinrich said. "I'll take you to her now."
They climbed to the second floor. The corridors here were wider, the walls paneled in dark wood. Portraits hung at intervals—men and women with golden hair and pale blue eyes, dressed in the fashions of decades past. Heinrich knocked on a door, waited, and then opened it.
The room beyond was bright with afternoon sun. A woman sat in a chair near the window, her hands folded over the swell of her belly. She was perhaps twenty-five, with blonde hair that fell in loose waves past her shoulders. Her eyes were the color of summer sky. She wore a dress of deep blue, simple but well-made.
"Madam Chamber," Heinrich said. "This is Nomay. She arrived from the city this afternoon."
Celia Chamber smiled. It was a warm expression, genuine. "Thank you, Heinrich." She looked at Nomay. "Please, sit."
Nomay took the chair opposite her. Heinrich withdrew, closing the door softly.
"You came recommended by the agency," Celia said. "They spoke highly of your experience with children."
"Yes, thank you, madam. I must say, it was more so because I was one of the eldest among all the children in the orphanage. It was only to be expected I would help out."
"And you're comfortable with infants?"
"Yes, madam, very much so."
Celia's hand moved across her belly in a slow circle. "This will be my third child. Oliver is six; Noesse is four. They're... energetic." She laughed quietly. "I need someone who can manage the new baby while I attend to them. Someone patient."
"I understand.
"Good." Celia leaned back in her chair. "The baby is due in three weeks, perhaps less. Dr. Halloway visits twice weekly to check on me. You'll meet him soon enough."
Nomay nodded.
"Do you have questions?"
"No, madam."
"Then I'll let you settle in. Heinrich will show you the nursery and introduce you to Margaret."
Nomay rose, bowed her head slightly, and left the room. Quickly, Nomay learned the rhythms of the household—the early morning routines, the meals, the children's schedules. Oliver was a loud boy with his father's broad shoulders already showing in his frame. Noesse was quieter, more careful, with her mother's gentle manner. Both had golden hair that caught the light like spun thread. All was simple, peaceful, until the day Celia's labor began.
The year is 1147, the 11th of the second month of spring.
It was the quiet hush of evening when inside one of the many rooms of a sprawling estate, the cries of a woman in labor echoed down the candlelit halls. The air was frantic with maids rushing to and fro, while the mother sat upon the birthing bed, legs spread before the attending doctor. Sweat streamed down her glistening face, shimmering in the flicker of the lone candlelight on the nightstand. At her side knelt her husband, clutching her hand with steadfast devotion. "Madam, you must push!" the physician urged.
With tears spilling down her cheeks and summoning the last of her strength, the woman gave birth to a healthy child. Relief washed across her face as the newborn's cries filled the room. The clock was struck at seven.
"You did it, dear. It's over now," her husband whispered, kissing her brow.
"It's a boy!" the physician declared.
The cord was cut, and a maid quickly wrapped the child in a soft blanket before placing him into his mother's eager arms. The baby's cries filled the room. "His hair," she laughed, tired. "So dark." The baby's head was covered in fine, dark hair. Not blonde. Not the golden color of the Chamber line. Black, like raven feathers. "Vindor," Celia said softly.
Vindor nodded, taking her hand and kissing her knuckle. "You did well, Celia."
"Madam, may I record the child's name?" the physician asked, quill and parchment already in hand. The physician was an older gentlemen whose time was precious, and who had spent the last week and a half in one of the guest rooms for the purpose of being there to deliver the child upon its arrival, and to record the new birth and identity for the kingdom's annexes.
"Erik," Celia answered, prompting her husband's face to break into a broad smile. "Erik Alexander Chamber, the newborn son of the Chamber dynasty."
The physician carefully penned the name upon the birth record with elegant strokes before departing to deliver it to the capital. He was in quite the rush to leave this countryside manor to return to the bustling city of Novergracia. Outside, dusk settled over the Chamber estate, a proud manor set upon noble lands overlooking forests rich with game and wide meadows where paths stretched as far as the eye could see. From there, the road led east toward the grand city of Novergracia, capital of Highland, its massive stone walls standing guard over a realm of wealth and power. The Chamber family was content and lived without worry, direct descendants of ducal blood. Their days were filled with ease: feasts of every kind, servants at their beck and call, and knights sworn to their defense. Horse handlers cared for the stables, chefs prepared lavish meals, and more than thirty maids tended the manor, overseen by a vigilant butler who kept the household in order.
Four years passed as swiftly as a fleeting shadow in the sun's rise. Erik grew fast and in good health. Nomay cared for him diligently and devotedly, feeding him, bathing him, dressing him, even reading to him. She loved him fiercely, though he rarely showed affection in return. He would sit in her lap while she read, his body still, his eyes fixed on the pages. He never interrupted. He never asked her to read faster or slower. He proved unusually quiet. He seldom cried, except when soiled, and fell asleep the moment he was placed in his crib. Everyone thought him a mother's dream, a well-behaved miracle of a child. One afternoon, as she tidied the nursery, she noticed Erik sitting calmly amidst a scatter of toys. He did not play with them, nor so much as glance at them. Even at the age of three, he remained strangely reserved, his cold, distant gaze unbefitting of one so young. At times, his parents had wondered if he were blind or deaf, but the family physician assured them he was perfectly healthy. Still, Nomay stayed faithfully at his side, guiding him through the world. Though quiet and solitary, Erik was endlessly curious, his eyes often lingering on new wonders with quiet fascination.
Outside the manor, the double doors opened onto a wide stone porch, worn smooth by generations of footsteps. To one side, trimmed bushes pressed against the pale walls. To the other, a narrow stretch of green ran along a low wooden fence, enclosing the horses that grazed and pawed at the earth beneath the shade of a crooked tree. Beyond, a cobbled path curved toward the estate walls and the old well, and farther still, the forest waited. Oliver ran across the grass with a wooden sword in hand, shouting as he clashed with the other children. His golden-haired hound barked and leapt at his side. Noesse sat apart beneath a shaded table with her mother and attendants, stitching quietly, her laughter soft and measured. Days often went as such, with the Chambers often enjoying the peaceful lives they had. Erik remained inside. Nomay held him in her lap beside the window, a small book open between them. "Hare," she said, guiding his finger.
"Hare," Erik repeated.
Nomay smiled. "Very good, Erik."
Perhaps it was at that moment that Erik began to develop a drive to further his skills academically, being praised as he was from such a young age after every small success. He continued to read and speak more, learning more words and even learning how to write. The language of the kingdom and many other kingdoms that bordered Highland, was called Common. By no means did his intelligence go unnoticed, with his grandfather, especially, taking an interest in his development. "Erik, my boy!!" his grandfather would practically throw him up with his hands, an eager smile on his face, happy to see his grandchild. "You have gotten fatter!! You are eating well I take it." Erik's grandfather was Celia's father, and was Count Henry Codux of Whimsicott, in Cezarch. He was a wise and thoughtful man who had a love for tinkering. He and his wife, Erik's grandmother, Parecia, would come to visit every winter, staying the whole duration to spend time with their beloved daughter and grandchildren. "My boy, what do you think of this?" he asked, giving his youngest grandchild a special gift kept in a carved box. Henry set the case down and opened it, revealing a sculpture of an owl, small and no larger than his own hand. It was a masterwork of craftsmanship, detailed enough that every feather on the outer layer of the wood was sculpted, and the dimensions realistic. Its eyes, however, stood out. They were shut, and unlike the rest of its body, they were merely simple lines, cutting across the center from left to right. "Do you know what this is?"
"A bird."
"Yes, but not just any bird. An owl. Nocturnal hunters. If you ever see an owl, it is a sign of wisdom! Unless it is a screech owl. That is an omen. Anyway, this, is for you, my boy." He handed over the toy carefully, placing it on the ground before him. On its back, there was a key sticking out. It was engraved with royal patterns and a dirty gold in color. "Watch!" he said as he turned the key. After a few moments, the owl began to click and move. Its wings spread, a few of its feathers as well as its beak. Its eyes opened and its wings slowly flapped. Everyone was taken aback by the sight.
"Father..." Celia uttered in disbelief.
"Amazing." Vindor exclaimed.
Both Noesse and Oliver did as well, looking in wonder.
"Yes!" Henry laughed. "It is the tinkerer's toy, much like the pocket watch of the gentleman, it is not magic, but moves via gears. A gnome created it, masters of such works. Small, magical creatures. Smaller than even you!" He waited for Erik to respond, to say anything expectedly, but Erik merely looked at the owl until it stopped moving which prompted Henry to again laugh. "Now, then. I came with gifts for everyone!"
Erik would play with his gift for hours that day, examining its movements and placing it close to his ear. He could hear clicking and gears, jutting and locking. He listened as he turned the key, hearing the movement inside the thick wood. Nomay couldn't help but chuckle to herself, seeing the innocent young child playing with a toy, which was unlike him to do. He had simply never cared for any toy like this, and he was especially careful when playing with it. Days would pass until one afternoon, Nomay had returned to the nursery with a tray full of snacks to find pieces of the mechanical owl, scattered across the floor. The sight halted her, flinching and nearly losing balance of the tray. "Oh my..." She approached the nearby table, placing the tray down before making her way over to Erik. Kneeling on the ground next to him, she asked, "Young master... Why have you done this?"
Erik was still taking apart the contraption, its insides filled with dozens of mechanical pieces. "To see how it moves," he told her.
"I see..." She was simply at a loss for words, looking over the carefully organized pieces, placed neatly in rows, and seeing only a mess. "Well, I brought snacks. Perhaps you would care for some crackers?"
Erik would eventually take the owl apart completely, much to Nomay's confusion and slight worry. She would do what she thought was right and later inform Count Henry of what his grandson had done. His bushy grey eyebrows jumped upon hearing her words. "Truly?!"
"Y-Yes, your lordship."
"Oh, well why would he do that?"
"I believe it was so he could see how it worked."
"Ah! Of course, I see... Well, no matter then. A tragedy, of course, it may never be put back together again, but still, he was curious. It, if anything, is a learning experience. It is good for the lad to be curious and want to see how such a thing could work. I, myself, was, as well. Perhaps I shall take a look at it later. I would be fascinated to see the inner workings of a gnome's tinkering."
"Yes, your lordship, though I will also inform you that, he has begun to put it back together."
"Put it back together?"
"Yes. At least, that is what he has told me."
Nomay guided Henry to the nursery where Erik was fiddling with the owl contraption. Indeed, Erik was putting it back together with careful precision, doing so with a pair of tweezers and a monocle. The sight humored his grandfather who laughed whole heartedly. "Oh my! What a little tinkerer he is!"
"Yes, he asked for them from Sir Heinrich and madam Celia, who were happy to provide, and ever since, has been, well, as you can see for yourself."
Henry made his way over to Erik, looking over and down from above him, who was sat upon the wooden floor. He leaned down, inspecting his actions close up. What he saw was beyond a child's fiddling. It was the steady hand of a surgeon, the masterful precision of a tailor, and the ability of a master puzzler. This old man's eyes suddenly widened, recognizing the ability this young boy did possess. Before he had even realized it, hours had passed, with him sitting down next to the boy somewhere along the way. He had watched him fix the contraption to the point that the final snap and click of the very last piece being locked into place, was like having been woken up by a bucket of water. He blinked out of his daze, breathing heavily once, as though to catch his breath. Erik placed the owl on the ground, turned the key, and watched it move just as it did prior.
"A prodigy. A genius. A natural born talent. Such a gift, my child, you will be great in this world. I just know it."