BOOK 8: CHAPTER 8: PARENTS

The merry sound of giggling filled the room as two young girls listened to Mia, who, in her usual overdramatized fashion, told them how she had haggled for the necklace she now wore.

Exaggerated or not, Zeke had no doubt the story was true. His mother was a terror at the market and loved nothing more than bargaining. Why she cared so much for a handful of coppers, he would never understand. These days, the time spent arguing would cost her more than the savings gained.

Even so, despite all the wealth their family now possessed, his parents lived much the same as when they had their modest home in Feldstadt.

In some ways, it was heartening to see how little had changed.

At the same time, it was also the very reason why he attended fewer and fewer of these gatherings. The mundane pleasures of an ordinary life seemed so far away. The mere thought of idling his time away caused him an almost physical discomfort.

Much like a bow drawn to the breaking point, Zeke felt his entire being was constantly on edge. And though he knew the danger of such a lifestyle, there was no avoiding it.

As the saying went: just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean no one is following you.

And Zeke’s pursuers were far more than figments of an overactive mind. They were as real as could be—and their malice had attempted to close around his throat more than once.

Therefore, the purpose of these family dinners had changed in recent months. Instead of joining in the merriment and banter, Zeke often found himself a silent observer.

He didn’t begrudge them their happiness and easy smiles—quite the opposite. Every laugh, every smile, every joke, he wore like a badge of honor. They were living proof of his achievements, proof that he had kept his family safe and sound, far removed from the barbarity of high society and the cutthroat world of politics.

Better that he suffer a hundred times the cruelties than let his family be touched by them even once.

Which made the topic he needed to raise tonight all the harder.

“I have some news,” he said when the chatter died down for a moment.

At once, the atmosphere shifted. Though the smiles didn’t vanish entirely, everyone understood that he wouldn’t speak like this if it were something trivial.

“I’ve found a mentor for Maya,” he said, hating that he had to start with the good news. It would likely be forgotten once the rest was revealed, but he had no choice. After the bad news, nothing else would matter.

Maya’s reaction was, predictably, the most excited.

“Who? Where? When? WHO? How? WHO!?”

Despite everything, his sister’s antics managed to draw a smile from his lips.

He raised his hands placatingly, calming her barrage of questions for a moment.

“I’ll explain everything—just let me tell the full story first.”

Maya leaned back, though Zeke doubted her patience would last long. He pressed on.

His next words were directed at Jettero, who, fortunately, was present as well. The old man seemed to age more with every passing day, and it was obvious even to a layman that his time was running short.

Or… it would have been, before today.

“There’s someone I want you to meet, Jett,” Zeke said seriously. “I’ve hired a new healer, and I want you to see them tomorrow.”

The head engineer scoffed. Even his failing body hadn’t dulled his sharp tongue. “No cure for old age, boy.”

Zeke shook his head. “And how would you know, old fart? You know as much about Magic as you do about fashion trends. Just do as I say.”

The old man still looked unconvinced, so Zeke gave him a bit more. “She is an Archmage. And more importantly—an elf.”

As he spoke, Zeke’s thoughts drifted to King Midas—who, despite not being a Mage, had lived for centuries. The reason was no mystery. His wife, an elven Exarch of Life, had clearly played a role in extending his years. 𝐑𝙖Ν𝘖฿ЁṦ

Zeke didn’t know how she had done it, nor if an ordinary Archmage could replicate such a feat, but it was worth the attempt if it meant prolonging Jett’s life, even a little.

A few more years would be enough for him to watch his granddaughter grow up.

This time, his words struck deeper.

The revelation that the healer was an Archmage drew a wave of furrowed brows. None of them were foolish enough to think this had come without a cost.

But they stayed silent, likely because they trusted his promise to explain everything.

“Their delegation came with an offer,” he said, his words more hesitant than he liked. “They offered a mentor for Maya—someone who could guide her as Maximilian once guided me.”

He stopped, though he knew he shouldn’t.

“…At what price?” his father asked gently from the side.

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Zeke looked up, meeting his father’s gaze. There was no reprimand there, no sharpness—only the steady eyes of a man who knew that good things always came with a price, a price he himself had paid many times.

That gaze gave Zeke the strength to go on.

“I promised to go to Rukia.”

“…To fight the Empire,” his mother finished for him.

Zeke nodded.

Already, he could see the words rising in her throat.

You cannot.

Too dangerous.

No place for a child.

But he cut her off before she could speak. “There is more,” he said quickly.

“Maya’s mentor is an important figure among the elves. They will not be able to come here to teach her.”

It took only a heartbeat for the meaning of his words to sink in.

“I’M GOING TO THE ELVES!?”

Maya’s voice burst out, a mix of excitement and disbelief.

Zeke had expected her to react positively. What child didn’t long for adventure? Still, he wondered how long that eagerness would last once she spent time among the elves. Margret certainly hadn’t enjoyed the experience much.

At least Maya would be protected by her status.

In stark contrast to Maya’s excitement, his mother had gone pale. The thought of both her children being sent far from home filled her with dread.

“You… this… I…”

The words stumbled from her lips in fragments, yet Zeke understood her meaning as clearly as if she had spoken them aloud.

You cannot do this.

This is not right.

I will not allow it.

But she didn’t finish any of those sentences. She knew they were meaningless. He could do this. It was right. And her permission did not matter.

Everyone in the room understood it as well: He had not come to ask, but to inform.

Ezekiel von Hohenheim was their son, their brother, their benefactor—but he was also the head of the house. He needed no one’s approval to act.

Most days, he relished that freedom. But on days like today, he hated it. Hated being the one who carried the weight of such choices. Even so, he would not bend, not even to spare his mother a temporary heartbreak.

Sending Maya to the elves was the only right choice to secure her future.

But that hardly mattered now.

No amount of logic could mend his mother’s breaking heart. Mothers did not live by reason—they lived by love and emotion.

Instead of speaking further, he leaned down and gently embraced her from behind, whispering what little comfort he could.

“It will only be for a few years.”

Her quiet sobs did not cease.

“She’ll be able to return once a month.”

That, at last, eased her trembling breath.

“Margret will be at her side the entire time.”

This, too, seemed to soothe her, if only slightly. His mother finally turned in her seat, her tear-filled eyes meeting his as she stroked his cheek with one trembling hand.

“What about you, Zeke? You are going to war. Not a game, not a duel—a war. You could—”

He placed his hand over hers, noticing how cold it had grown.

“I will be fine,” he said, his voice steady. It was no act, no hollow reassurance. He simply believed in his abilities.

“Besides, I am far from the only one going. The elves are mobilizing over a dozen prominent human houses to join the war.”

Over his mother’s shoulder, his eyes met his father’s. Silently, he mouthed a single word: Bloodletter.

His father’s gaze sharpened, widening for the briefest moment before settling back into calm. He gave a faint nod, showing he understood.

“…But they will target you, won’t they?” his mother pressed, her voice tight. “After all the trouble you’ve caused them.”

Zeke frowned slightly. She wasn’t wrong. The Empire might indeed go to great lengths to strike at him personally. Yet that very eagerness could just as easily be twisted into a rope to hang them with—if they weren’t careful.

“I’m prepared for that,” he said firmly. “Besides, who will bring Leo home if I don’t go? The poor boy has been gone far too long.”

It sounded like a casual jest, but his words carried layers of meaning.

First, it lightened the mood. Then, it planted hope that Leo might return soon. And finally, it reminded his mother that his adoptive brother had been fighting in this war for over a year already—without harm coming to him.

A layered approach meant to chip away at her fear.

Zeke continued to hold his mother’s hand against his cheek, waiting for his words to sink in. A faint, suppressed smile tugged at her lips, a glimmer returned to her eyes, and at last, the tension in her face eased.

Success.

“…When will you leave? Maya?” Her voice was much calmer now.

Zeke gave an apologetic smile. “We will make for the World Tree in a few days.”

“We?”

He nodded. “I won’t send Maya away without making sure she’s treated well—and without confirming that this teacher of hers is truly worth her time.”

“Didn’t you say they were someone important?”

Zeke shrugged, feigning arrogance. “Important or not, if they prove unworthy, I’ll bring Maya straight back.”

“NOOOO!!”

Maya’s mournful wail shattered the last of the tension. Even their mother cracked a faint smile at her daughter’s theatrics.

“She’ll be able to come home once a month?” his mother asked again.

Zeke nodded firmly. “I insisted on that.”

Her lips twitched. “Better than you, at least. You used to vanish for months on end when you first went off to learn magic.”

A jest—but more than that. With Mia’s mood shifting, it was as though the air itself had been given permission to breathe again. The atmosphere grew lighter, and soon, laughter began to creep back into the room.

At that moment, Jett approached his seat.

“Thank you. For getting that healer. That could not have been easy—”

Zeke waved him off at once. “Don’t overthink it. They threw that girl into the deal as a freebie.”

The words weren’t entirely untrue. But even if he had been forced to beg and plead for the healer, he would have said the same. There was no reason to make Jett feel more indebted than he already did.

The old man had worked himself to the bone to bring Zeke’s wild ideas to life. Zeke would work just as hard to ensure Jett’s dream became a reality. If possible, he would see to it that Jett’s failing body endured—at least until Lue was ready to take his place as lead engineer.

“…Thank you.”

Contrary to expectation, the words carried even more weight now. It was clear Jett had seen through his attempt to downplay the favor.

Zeke realized any further deflection would only cheapen the moment.

“Hang in there, okay?”

“I’ll try.”

Their words were uncharacteristically serious, a stark contrast to their usual banter.

Jettero left soon after, accompanied by Lue. Apparently, they wouldn’t even wait until morning to meet the new healer.

That left only Zeke and his family behind. Maya was receiving a lecture on how she ought to behave while living among the elves, while Zeke and his father silently watched the exchange with faint smiles.

Their eyes met, and Zeke gave a nod of gratitude.

His father hadn’t tried to stop him, hadn’t spoken against him, or questioned his decisions. Geralt never did. To outsiders, it might have looked like he didn’t care as much. But Zeke knew the truth.

Just as it was a mother’s role to worry, it was a father’s role to support in his own way. In Geralt’s case, he had always believed in his children’s dreams. Even years ago, when Zeke was just a clueless boy, his father had stood behind him in his wish to become a Mage.

It wasn’t in his nature to hold his children back from chasing greatness. He would simply watch from behind, ready to pick up the pieces if they fell.

How much strength did it take to let your loved ones make their own mistakes without interfering?

Zeke felt his own immaturity more keenly than ever. He didn’t have his father’s patience. He would allow Maya to make her own mistakes only after she had secured her path as a Mage. That was the most he could manage.

But when that day finally came, he too would have to learn to step back and let her fail.

The very thought already made his teeth itch.

Was this how parents felt all the time?