The elderly man stood up with the cane in his right hand and took a few timid steps. The prosthesis seemed to fit just right with no discernible play in the socket. “It seems very well-made. However, the flexibility does not quite inspire confidence; would it be possible to enchant it with hardening to reduce that?”
“Would it not be better to allow some compression? It would spring back after each step, and it should be less fatiguing this way.”
“Ah, is that correct? I suppose I shall only find out by using it more.” Bernigi began to speed up toward the wall, his heel dragging ever so slightly on the floor; it might have been hard to lift up his leg.
After wondering about what she could do to help, Dahlia recalled another osseous material: skybat bone. Supposedly it was often used to support kites and the like in flight, so maybe its slight buoyancy could be useful here as well. “Lord Bernigi, could you please sit back down?” Dahlia ran her idea by him as she removed the prosthesis from the now-seated man’s stump, and after getting his consent, she made a liquid mixture with the pulverized skybat bone. Her rainbow magic spread the blue concoction from the heel to the toe, then up the leg to the knee. Dyed from white to a deep blue like the sky, the prosthesis glimmered just once. Perhaps a little too conspicuous; she thought it might be good to wrap it in leather or color it some other way.
Bernigi, though, seemed to like it. “How beautiful the shade is...” He then helped blood bond it to himself; with his magic coursing through the magical tool, it should be more controllable.
Marcella also lent a hand and supported Bernigi every time he put on and took off the prosthesis during fitting.
“Could you please test it out again?”
Bernigi paused after a false start to lean his cane against the workbench, then he walked to the rear of the room and back again. His heel did not once drag, and his gait looked quite natural. “Fine work! My left leg feels slightly heavier now, though I suppose I could simply wear a lighter shoe.”
“Chairwoman, this is coming from a layman, but would it be possible to enchant Lord Bernigi’s shoe with skybat as well?”
“Oh, that way, it would balance with the prosthetic.” It was a sound idea, and Bernigi confirmed that his shoes had not been enchanted before. With his approval, Dahlia applied the same enchantment to one shoe, turning it from dark brown to a navy blue.
Bernigi forwent his cane and walked around some more, then he nodded twice. “I can manage just fine without my walking stick. So long as I do not take up too much time from either of you, I would like to go out into the hall.”
“By all means. Marcella, could you please accompany Lord Bernigi? I have some paperwork to take care of.” Though Bernigi had his own attendant, it would be better if he had people to support him on both sides.
Marcella accepted her request with a smile, then followed the elderly man.
Out in the hall, Bernigi asked his attendant to enjoy a cup of tea in another room. But the nobleman was in the home of the Scalfarottos, a family outside of his own faction; even a rookie knight like Marcella knew it wasn’t quite right for Bernigi to be alone here.
Yet, the attendant-cum-bodyguard said nothing to protest and instead bowed, saying, “I leave Lord Bernigi to you, then,” which elicited a bit of a tense acknowledgment from Marcella.
Bernigi then began taking big strides down the hallway, arms swinging freely, unhindered by a cane. It looked natural enough, but he wobbled left and right; the prosthetic was brand new, after all.
“Excuse me, Lord Bernigi, but would you please allow me to take your arm for safety?”
“Take my left arm, then, if you please. It would not do for me to fall over in someone else’s home.” Though his smile was soft, his arm was anything but—there was much more muscle there than was immediately obvious.
They continued down the hallway, but suddenly the old man leaped sideways, nearly falling. Marcella grabbed on tight and planted his feet firmly.
“Much appreciated. I was attempting to flow my magic into both my prosthesis and shoe, but I clearly failed to do so evenly.” Sweat had formed on his wrinkled brow.
Marcella was fully keen on the hardships of magic control—his recent endeavors in that area had had him struggling too, but for a late bloomer who’d only recently begun studying, that much was to be expected. “Yes, it’s not easy at all, is it? I have been trying to create bricks, but, well...”
“Ah, making them rectangular with sharp corners, are you? My attempts in the past all ended up as large spheres. Hopefully you have had more success?”
“Pickling weights for me—erm, that is to say, I have been making many round balls as well.”
The men shared the same failures as wielders of earth magic—and now the same laughter too. But maybe more importantly, they shared the same blood. Though Jonas had never explained it to Marcella in as many words, he knew that Bernigi was someone from his father’s family; considering his age, he was probably his grandfather or granduncle.
“Mind if we run?”
“Not at all, sir.” But seeing the old man’s smile, Marcella had no inclination to ask for clarification. Bernigi was very humble despite being a former marquis. He might’ve looked a little scary, but his words and actions were the opposite. Some time ago, Marcella had been asked if he would like to be adopted by the D’Orazi family, but he had rejected Bernigi’s offer on the spot; to stay as a commoner and live with his wife Irma and his soon-to-be-born children was all he wanted.
“I should like to think I have a good grasp on it now.” After walking up and down the hall some more, Bernigi got a good grasp on control of either his magic or his prosthetic. Whatever the case was, he sped up and did not stumble. “Next, we challenge the stairs!” He nimbly walked up the steps and even began skipping them midway through, but that wasn’t something easily done in lockstep, so Marcella followed behind him instead. At the top of the stairs, Bernigi did not ease into his question, asking. “Say, Marcella, how many are in your family?”
“I live with my wife currently, and soon there will be four in our family. Back home, I have my parents and two younger brothers.”
“Ah, three brothers? You must have quarreled a fair bit, then.”
“All the time when we were children, sir. That said, as the oldest sibling, I had to go easy on them.”
He had body strengthening magic as well as a few years on his brothers, so he hadn’t ever seriously scrapped with them. Marcella had also often mediated between his younger siblings, carrying his middle brother under his right arm and his youngest brother under his left. More than fighting, though, the three of them had been mischievous brats who played pranks on their parents all the time; boys will be boys, as they say.
“I have sons myself, and they, too, did their fair share of fighting when they were young. We all have earth magic, so many rooms in our home were more like sandboxes. Argh, I even remember the time when they colluded among themselves to build a sandcastle—at that size, a sand palace, even—on my bed.”
“Huh?” How terrifying. The twins would likely have powerful earth magic. Is this what’s in store...?
“Your twins have earth magic too, aye? You had best brace yourself.”
“I, I see...” Welp. Looks like the Nuvolaris gotta get themselves a big-ass broom.
“My boys once made a ball of mud and tossed it back and forth. Indoors. As one might expect, a point came at which one failed to catch it, and that punched a large hole through the wall. Unfortunately, covering that specific part of the wall was a portrait of our ancestors. Never have I been so afraid of my wife Mersela as I was then...”
“Pfft!” He failed to contain himself.
“Ah, and Bernardi—my youngest son—he was physically the strongest, but he was the gentlest one.” That casual drop of a name confirmed that the old man before Marcella was his grandfather by blood. “He was a Beast Hunter like myself, and he was a very fine knight—he even cut off one of the hydra’s nine heads.”
Marcella tried his best to not let his expression or voice be affected by the emotions welling up inside of him, but he couldn’t help his tone being a little stiff. “I see. And, um, what was he like?”
“He was a kind, strong, and gallant knight, and a son of whom I was very proud. Too good for me, in fact.” Each word weighed upon Marcella’s ears. There was no way Bernigi did not know that his grandson was before him.
The pair of black leather gloves swayed on Marcella’s belt—the pair that was a memento of Bernardi.
“I was a failure of a father to him...” Faint as a phantom, the sentence tumbled from his lips, making one question whether Bernigi had said anything at all.
Marcella, however, did hear it—although that didn’t mean he could say anything in response.
“Let us return, now, lest we keep Master Dahlia waiting.” A smile was on his lips, but his brown eyes dared not meet Marcella’s. “Shall we?”
“Very good, sir.” Marcella led the way, hoping to support the old man, who marched down the staircase. But his prosthetic failed to find one of those steps. “Lord Bernigi!” It was too late to grab just his arm; Marcella instead caught him by the chest, planting his feet firmly on the steps. Fortunately, the collision didn’t send the two men tumbling down, and once Marcella was sure they were safe, he was finally able to relax.