It was a brisk and early spring day, with winter just having left, with the cold and snow lingering behind by just days. The neighs of one of the mares cried out alongside the thumping of her hoof on the stable wall. Upon the ground and on a pile of hay, the old stablehand and his young helper tended to the pained animal. Her stomach was swollen with child.
The sun was little more than streaks of light over the horizon. Many of the servants were still waking. Of the earliest maids to wake up, the youngest of them made their way through the manor, shouting news of the birth. "Everyone! The madam's mare is giving birth in the stables! Come! Come!"
Even Erik was awoken by Nomay, who pleasantly rushed into his room to dress him. "Young master, rise and shine."
Erik's eyes remained closed, dreaming still even as he was dressed and carried out of the room. Before he knew it, he was outside, dressed in heavy and warm clothing, standing in the stables with many of the servants and his family. The smell was that of shit and hay, only made worse by the cold air which prompted Erik to pull his scarf over his mouth.
Everyone crowded around to witness the birth with expecting gazes. When the time finally came and the foal was being pushed out, exclaims of disgusting cried out alongside the laughter of many. Noesse and Oliver both uttered together, "Ugh!" before they looked at one another and laughed. Many of the adults did so as well, with Vindor being by far the loudest.
Erik was the only one to watch without much movement on his face, though much of it was covered. Soon, all was done and the new foal was born. It was a young steed, with a black coat spotted with white around the front of its head and above its haired hooves.
"Erik," Vindor patted his shoulder in laying his hand upon his boy. "This one will grow into a fine Highland steed, a descendant of strong Cezarchian warhorses. It is yours to name, and will be yours to ride and care for."
"It is mine?" Erik asked.
"Yes. What kind of name are you thinking to give?"
Erik gave it a few seconds. "...Biscuits," he answered, swiftly turning to look back and up at Nomay. "Nomay, I am cold."
Vindor and the servants laughed, with Nomay, too, chuckling as she took him inside. "Yes, young master. Lets get you to the den."
Erik was of royalty, eleventh in line for the ducal throne of Cezarch, with his uncle, Haldor Chamber being the one who would succeed the current Duke, his grandfather Gendal Chamber, father to his. Still, being of royalty meant he would live a wealthy and cushy life, and those he would socialize with would be of higher standing.
His mother, Celia, was prominent among the noblewomen of Novergracia, who was known for her natural elegance and charm. Little would be said of her standing, considering her closest friends to be her sister-in-law, Welsha Chamber, the Duchess of Radenwalt, Elizabeth Rose, and the Duchess of Courthal, Catherine Jonrai. With them being as close knit as they were, it was of no question that they would arrange playdates often between their children.
To Erik, he would simply be placed in a room with other children around his age. They would practically grow up with each other, often visiting one another for birthday celebrations or playdates. The moment the families would gather, whatever manor or palace was chosen as the hosted gathering place felt as though it were crowded, despite the grand size of them all. As young as Erik and the other children his age were, it would not be farfetched to say that they were strangers to each other, despite having grown up together. They were young, their minds still developing, despite Erik being certain to remember. That being said, they did not truly socialize with one another until Erik was five years old, and had traveled to Courthal for Peter Jonrai's birthday.
The Jonrai Ducal Household was by far the wealthiest, being among the wealthiest dynasties in the kingdom, with their palace home being the most extravagant. Catherine Jonrai was the wife to the Duke of Courthal, Hadvard Jonrai, and had two children, Peter, who had just turned come of age at fifteen, and Devone, who was little more than a couple months older than Erik.
Peter was a bright young man, like strands of fine gold his hair was, and eyes of amber, with the posture and manners of a true noble. Rumor was, he was as gifted with magic as he was with the sword, a fitting successor next in line to be Duke. Many believed the next generation would be prosperous because of young men like him.
In the grand hall, where lights shone brightly from every chandelier and candelabra, reflecting off the gold of every picture frame, table, chair, even fork, spoon, and knife, the dozens of guests gathered in dining. Children as young as five, as Erik was, and as old as ten were kept to the children's playroom, adorned with toys and desserts to keep them occupied. There were many children all born to nobility and royalty, but children nonetheless. Some screamed out of anger, others cried. It was to be expected, as was the response of their caretakers attempting to calm them. Erik kept to himself, reading while Nomay waited diligently in the seat next to him. His eyes were glued to the dense and illustrationless historical telling, "The Beginning of Highland."
The children were being watched by a few maids and the Jonrai's on nursemaids. Still, there are far more children than there were watchful adults.
Erik preferred being left alone to read, and the mere sight of a child reading a thick and dark covered book should have gave off that impression, yet a young girl sat next to him. "Erik!" she shrieked. "What are you doing?"
The young girl wore a bright red dress adorned with large, comically oversized ribbons. Even at his age, he found them to be ridiculous, but as was the trend of the time. Her hair was nearly as red as her clothes, like that of blood, with eyes of blue that contrasted greatly. Her face was freckled with only so few, that you could count them on both hands. She was Emily Rose, a year older than Erik, and was the daughter to Elizabeth Rose, Duchess of Radenwalt, and Barren Rose, Duke of Radenwalt. As spoiled as could be, even as young as she was, she knew to hold her head up high and conduct herself with manners befitting a lady.
"I am reading." Erik sighed.
"Read to me!"
"Why?"
"I wish to know what you are reading."
"I am reading the history of our kingdom."
Suddenly, something had splat against the back of his head. It was thrown from nearby, had shocked Erik stiff, and left Emily confused as to what had happened. From behind, Erik would hear laughter, followed by one of the maids scolding them for what they had done. Another maid had gone over to Erik with a handkerchief, wiping away at the food in his hair. "Those boys. Are you all right, young one?" asked the old maid.
Erik was still stunned, unbudging almost, as his gaze fixed on the cream that had splattered on the pages of his book.
Emily got up from her seat to scold the boys who had thrown the cake at him. Erik turned to see who it was that had thrown it. He saw three boys being scolded, one of which was his cousin, another he did not recognize, with the final boy being Devone Jonrai.
Calling him or any of the other children who he had socialized with over the years was a stretch, as Erik was always quiet and kept to himself, even when they would visit Finefield for a couple of weeks. Devone was a bit of a scoundrel, often being a nuisance, much to Emily in Erik's eyes. His prior attempts to alleviate this consisted of fleeing, ignoring them, and informing his mother, but he was old enough now to realize the truth.