The sorcerer was quietly sipping tea and reading through the newest Arcanist’s Monthly when the door whooshed open and banged at the wall. He raised an eyebrow as the witch marched across his living room before taking a seat opposite of him. The man put down the publication in his hand on the wooden table and poured the middle-aged woman a cup of tea. He also picked up a cupcake from the plate and gave it to the weasel that helped close the door after her grand entrance.

He also didn’t miss the toddler in the basket that she was carrying with her.

“I was deceived!” The witch hissed. “He promised me his firstborn would be a cure for the queen, but all he gave me is… is this! A worthless brat!”

The sorcerer tried very hard not to roll his eyes. He warned her… There was a reason that their kind rarely rose to prominence in the aristocratic landscape. Despite their arcane powers, few of them were well-versed in the arts of diplomacy and deception. However, she insisted she could hold a kingdom ransom by putting their heir under her control. Her plan worked… She got a child from the royal family. However, she had overlooked something.

“Start from the beginning, you old hag. Don’t make me waste my Mana on trying to read your mind,” he said to the witch as he glanced at the weasel climbing up the table and then looked at the baby curiously. Meanwhile, the baby was still fast asleep as he lay in the basket, not knowing that his royal parents had already sold him off to an old witch.

As the witch rambled on, the sorcerer finally pieced together what happened. Long story short, the king of a queendom approached the witch in order to find a cure for a magical disease that was afflicting the queen. The unsuspecting witch asked for their firstborn son, completely oblivious to the fact that the son would never become a ruler since the king omitted to tell her he was from a queendom. That was how her plan completely fell apart before it even started.

“Curse the aristocracy and their game of words!” The witch faked a spat.

“And what should I do with this brat right now? I can’t just leave him out in the wilds!” The witch sighed. She may be a witch, but even she had standards. Harming children… Especially a toddler… it was something she would never consider. She always had a soft spot for children. However, she also had little patience for crying, children… And she expected the toddler to cry as soon as he woke up from his sleep.

“Why not adopt him?” The sorcerer shrugged. “He has royal blood inside of him. He will make a mighty sorcerer if you can ignite his Arcane Spark.”

The witch stared at her long-time companion and the latter could feel a chill down his spine as she broke into a wide grin. “Oh, my old buddy, old pal…”

“No, nope, stop. I don’t want to hear a word you’re going to say from this second onward…”

“Come now, you won’t leave an old friend in the rut, would you…?”

17 Years Later.

A tearful witch bid the youth farewell as he strode off into the sky on a phantom steed. Even the weasel was waving goodbye with a handkerchief in its hand. “Can’t he just stay home for one more year? The world’s such a dangerous place… And he’s still so young…”

The sorcerer could only roll his eyes as he heard the witch as she blew her nose. “You didn’t sound sad when you left him with me all those years ago.”

“I didn’t know that he would grow up to be such a considerate and kind boy back then!” The witch retorted, even as she wiped the tears off her cheeks. “He’s the only one who ever gave me a flower…”

“Alright, alright… Stop crying, 'mommy.' He promised he’ll send us letters whenever he reaches a new town… He’ll be fine. He learned from the best.” The sorcerer voiced out his confidence in the boy that they raised together. Of course, he would never let her know he had secretly inscribed a rune on the boy’s back that would always inform him of his whereabouts…