Prologue
After their chaotic visit to the McFarlane estate, the Sword Roses made a brief stop at Pete’s old home, and their long journey began winding down. Then the eight members of their group made one last stop at the house where Guy was born.
“Pass the vinegar!”
“Cliff, don’t hog that!”
“Why not? It’s first come, first served!”
“We’ve got company, jerk!”
“Yeah, yeah, mind your manners, kids. The food ain’t going anywhere!”
Guy’s pile of siblings made for a boisterous dinner table, but his mother’s voice carried over the hubbub. Levitating frying pans ferried one dish after another from the kitchen, dumping their contents on serving platters, only barely mindful of keeping the dishes from mixing. Left untouched, the mountains of food would soon add up, but the appetites of hungry mage children were more than a match for this pace. The mere sight of the spread could make a person feel sated, and Pete seemed mildly overwhelmed.
“…This is exactly what I thought your home would be like, Guy,” he said.
“Spare me. If they bug you, feel free to send ’em packing.”
“…Heh-heh…”
“What’s that for, Chela?”
“This is so unlike what I’m used to. The McFarlanes are not known for lively family dinners.”
She dug into the simple home cooking, clearly tickled pink. Oliver shot her a quick glance; Chela’s mother had certainly kept them all busy, but they’d met none of her other relatives. Nor had she ever mentioned them much—other than Stacy, who was clearly an exception. Being heir apparent to a family of considerable repute had left her uniquely isolated. Oliver sensed that, but didn’t yet dare pry further.
“Good, ain’t it? Typical farm food, but made from the finest stuff. All these veggies come from the fields outside!” said Mrs. Greenwood.
“…Mm, more where that came from.”
Guy’s father was a man of few words—a marked contrast from Guy’s chatterbox mother—but he stood beside her, prepping ingredients so quickly his arm was invisible from the elbow down.
Guy leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow at them. “You could be a bit friendlier, Dad! I brought my friends home, here!”
“…Mm, fair. Should I get my guitar?”
“Absolutely not! You suck at it! Why do you always gotta play for people?!”
Guy shook his head and leaned back across the table.
Nanao had been packing food away as fast as any of the children, but then she felt a tug on her sleeve. She froze, fork still in hand, and glanced down to find a boy looking at her—he was maybe four or five years old.
“Mm? Can I help you?” she asked.
“Teach me spells!” the boy demanded.
Guy spun his chair that way. “You ain’t ready, Colin! You ain’t even got your first wand yet!”
“But I wanna go to Kimberly now!”
“Absolutely not!” their mother said, scooping up her small son. “One boy at that dangerous place is more than enough. If you really want to go, you’ll need to grow up—and then fight me for a whole month straight. Just like your brother did.”
Across the table from Nanao, Katie made a strange noise.
“…Guy, your parents tried to stop you from going to Kimberly, too?” she asked.
“Mm? Yeah, I guess. Lost count of how many times we got to grappling.”
“Why wouldn’t we?! We want him taking over the farm, not going to a place like that.”
“Like I said, I’m into ancient and extinct species. Kimberly’s got ’em both! Rare seeds, fossilized ones—only place that lets students get their hands on that stuff.”
“Hmph. If it gets to be too much for you, just say the word. We’ve got the transfer forms filled out.”
“Yeah, that ain’t happening…although if I hadn’t made friends, it might have.”
The latter half of Guy’s response came out as a low mutter.
Guy’s mother sighed and glanced over at the Kimberly students’ faces. “Stubborn as the both of us. He’s all yours, Oliver. Seems like even our hardheaded boy actually listens to you.”
“Does he?”
“His letters make that clear enough. We know how close you all are—and how much he respects you.”
“Mom!” Guy wailed, half rising out of his chair.
Chela beamed at him.
“A bit late for that, Guy,” Pete said. “Everyone knows how much you love Oliver.”
“Coming from you, Pete?”
“I love him, too!” Nanao cried, not to be outdone. She had her hand raised.
“And one look at you proves it,” Guy’s mother said, chuckling. “You’re as warm as a meal pulled fresh out of the oven. Do you need separate rooms?”
“They don’t.”
“Teresaaaa! You didn’t even hesitate!” Katie wailed, giving the girl at the end of the table an envious look.
Watching from on high—his head nearly in the rafters—Marco suppressed a smile.
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