"Progress, huh?" I said, my eyes fixed on the scattered metal pieces strewn across the table.
"That doesn't look advanced at all…" Isolde muttered, one eyebrow raised. Her disappointment was hard to miss. She'd probably been expecting something more impressive. Something with shape. Maybe something that moved on its own.
"Easy, easy. Just gotta put the pieces together with a few screws and reinforce them with magic. It's no big deal," Reginald replied, scratching the back of his head with a carefree grin. "You guys helping, or would you rather sit this one out?"
"I don't think two kids should be messing with something like that. We barely managed to build a steam bird without it blowing up…" I slumped into the armchair with a faint sigh. "So, I'll just sit."
"I'd like to help," Isolde said, a bit shyly, "but I really don't know anything about what you're doing. I've only seen the basics, and I don't want to ruin your work, Uncle Reginald."
"Fair enough. I'll do it myself then."
And with that, he got to work. We just watched.
Isolde sat next to me with the water bottle I'd bought earlier. She handed it to me without a word. I took a sip. And then, inevitably, the thought crept back into my mind.
Alicia.
Her story kept spinning in my head like a loose bolt that didn't fit anywhere. I didn't want to ask. I didn't want to seem nosy. But…
Why go study on another continent? Why vanish like that? And why did the king… lie?
I remembered that conversation during the Vigil of the Fallen. I'd approached him because my father was escorting him. I asked, with a child's natural curiosity, why he was alone. He told me Alicia was with friends. That his wife was traveling. It sounded reasonable, but… it wasn't. The castle isn't a place where "friends" drop by to visit princesses. It's not a boarding school or an inn.
And then, as if he'd read my thoughts, Reginald looked at me.
"You've got questions, don't you?"
Isolde raised her eyebrows. I pretended not to know what he meant.
"Huh? What are you talking about?"
"Come on, I know you, Lucius. I can tell when you're swallowing a question. It's not a sin to be curious. The real mistake is letting doubt fester until it turns into suspicion."
I stayed quiet for a few seconds. Not because I didn't have an answer, but because I was deciding whether to ask or not. Finally, I threw it out there, like tossing a stone into a pond just to see if it skips.
"Well… I don't think it's something I need to know, but… why did Alicia leave the kingdom?"
Reginald didn't seem surprised. He just let out a soft sigh as he kept screwing a piece onto the metal arm.
"Ah… that. Well, it's more personal than it seems," he began, his tone steady. "Alicia left when she was barely four years old. She was going to study on the elven continent, sure, but there were other issues too. The trip was moved up because of complicated circumstances. It's not easy living far from the place you were born, without family or anything familiar. It must've been tough… growing up like that, practically alone."
Four years old. So young. What kind of problems could justify something like that?
"And why did the king lie?"
Reginald froze. He turned his face slightly toward me, frowning.
"What? What do you mean?"
"During the Vigil, I talked to him. He was with my father. I asked why he was alone. He said Alicia was with friends and his wife was away on a trip. I didn't think much of it at the time, but… now that I know the truth, it doesn't add up. None of it does."
I didn't say it out loud, but there was something about his expression that day. A forced smile. A distant look. It wasn't the face of someone whose daughter is in another room playing with friends. It was the face of someone remembering something they can't change.
Reginald fell silent. Then he went back to working on the machine, his movements slower now. As if every screw he tightened reminded him of a part of that story he still couldn't share.
"Sometimes… adults don't lie out of malice, Lucius," he said finally. "Sometimes they lie because telling the truth would mean admitting they failed. And some people aren't ready for that."
I didn't respond. I just nodded slowly, my gaze drifting among the machine's pieces.
"What's with this gloomy vibe now?" Isolde asked, trying to cut through the tension with her usual well-meaning clumsiness. The tone Reginald had used earlier… it was heavy, tinged with a regret that wasn't his but somehow weighed on me too. "I didn't understand a thing, but it sounds like something tough to carry… Especially coming from you, Uncle Reginald," she added, her voice softening with a compassion I didn't know she could fake so well.
Reginald sighed. Then he looked up and planted his hands on his hips. His posture screamed "resignation," but his eyes said "determination."
"Alright," he said simply. "Wanna give it a test run?"
"What's it supposed to do?" I asked, a bad feeling already twisting in my gut.
"Here I am trying to lighten the mood, and you ignore me like I'm thin air…" Isolde grumbled, a mix of theatrics and genuine annoyance.
"Haha… We're not ignoring you. There just wasn't much to say," I replied, trying to keep the conversation from derailing again.
"So, what's it supposed to do, then? Well…" Reginald paused, as if savoring the moment before explaining. "It's a high-speed armor. Also doubles as an escape tool. It's powered by magic to reinforce its structure. It's not built for combat but for healers. If war breaks out, they're the ones who'll get the wounded out while escaping. And if they can heal them on the go, even better."
"Interesting…"
It reminded me of old RPGs, where healers were just as vital as sword-wielders. Maybe more so. I always liked that concept.
"How does it work?"
"Like this." Without warning, Reginald raised his fist and punched me square in the face.
I hit the ground. It hurt… or so I thought. But as I shook my head, a hiss of steam filled my ears.
"What the hell are you doing!? That hurt… wait, what?"
"Hahaha. Sorry. But look… it doesn't hurt anymore, does it?"
He was right. The pain was fading at an unnatural, almost suspicious speed.
"Incredible! I wanna try too!" Isolde shouted, swinging at me like I was a punching bag.
"Agh! Can you guys stop using me as a guinea pig!?"
I turned to Reginald's metal arm. It was extended toward me, a thick cord of pure mana—green, glowing, almost organic—clinging to my body. The pain retreated with surgical precision.
"I didn't build this arm with this in mind, to be honest. Putting on the full armor would be a hassle; it's twice my size. Plus, I'm no expert in healing magic, not like your mother, but I know the basics."
"It's… impressive," I admitted, grudgingly.
Still sore, I couldn't deny the brilliance of the invention. How did he do it? How could he create something like this with makeshift tools and a workshop that looked more like a ruin than a lab?
Reginald was a genius.
"It's a brilliant invention," I admitted, and it wasn't flattery. It was, in every sense of the word. "You don't need to be within arm's reach to heal someone anymore. How'd you pull it off?"
From what I knew, healing magic required direct contact or, at the very least, dangerously close proximity. Reginald had shattered that rule with infuriating efficiency.
"What's the actual range? Can it extend even further?" I asked, still running through the possibilities.
"Ten meters. That's the limit," he replied with a smile that seemed to fish for approval. "And if you ask me, that's still a pretty decent distance."
It was. Far enough to save someone… or to escape before you get killed trying.
"How tough is it?" Isolde asked, tilting her head as if she were talking about a teacup and not an experimental piece of tech.
"Wanna find out?"
"Can I?"
"Sure. Hit it with everything you've got."
I don't know why he allowed it. Maybe pride. Maybe recklessness.
I took a step back on instinct. Another for good measure. Then I reinforced my body using blood control, pooling blood in my arms and part of my chest, hardening it like a protective layer.
"Why's Lucius backing away?" Reginald asked, missing the obvious.
"Heh… Here I go," Isolde announced with that reckless excitement that usually precedes accidents.
I saw the tension in her arm, the weight of the magic compressing in her muscles. I leaped back. Extra coagulation. I wasn't going to be the one on the ground this time. Just before the impact, I saw Reginald pour every ounce of mana he had into the armor. Too late for regrets.
There was a flash. Then a short but forceful explosion. I closed my eyes instinctively.
When I opened them, the scene wasn't entirely unexpected: Reginald on the ground, Isolde helping him up while laughing as if she hadn't just unleashed a military-grade attack.
"It held up! That's so cool! I mean, you fell, but it was awesome. The metal arm didn't even break. Hahaha."
I walked over and offered Reginald a hand. He took it with what dignity he had left.
"Not that hard!" I said, giving Isolde a light tap on the head.
"Ow! That hurt. But he said to use all my strength…"
"Yeah, but we didn't expect that to include charging like you were trying to knock down a steel door. Since when are you that strong?"
"Blood control. I boosted my body's oxygenation. It's what we learned recently, remember?"
"Oh, right… Just, try not to kill anyone during practice. Thanks."
"Fiiiine~!"
I looked at Reginald. He was panting, not from lack of air but from shock. He wasn't injured, but he wasn't unscathed either.
"You okay?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah… Yeah, you guys are strong, huh? Damn, that hurt even with the armor. Haha…"
"At least you learned something useful: you should add an impact absorption system."
"True… I'll work on that. Wanna help? I think my arm's gone numb."
I glanced at Isolde. She, in response, looked away, as if the whole thing had nothing to do with her.
A shameless little girl with an innocent face.
I sighed. Because, really… what else could I do?