Melting your Precious Heart

Twelve years ago, on a particularly sweltering summer day, I emerged into this world in a way that would become a cherished family legend. I am Felix Borgon, and my mother often delights in recounting the story of my birth. She emphasizes the stark contrast of my initial reaction; rather than the customary wails of a newborn, I greeted my new life with unrestrained laughter. My parents were taken aback by this unexpected display of joy, and they took it as a sign that I was destined to be a beacon of happiness—a sort of lucky charm who would bring unending joy and fortune into their lives. Little did they know, however, that I had journeyed from a realm far beyond their comprehension—a place radically different from this tranquil kingdom they called home. The day of my extraordinary arrival was shrouded in foreboding weather. The skies were dark, pregnant with heavy rain, and the roads transformed into torrents of water, rendering the landscape almost unrecognizable. Earlier that morning, I had made a trip to our family farm, eager to inspect our crops. But as thunder rumbled ominously overhead, I felt an urgent need to return to the safety of my home. Just as I was rushing back, a bolt of lightning struck with sudden ferocity. The world around me erupted in blinding white light, and in that fleeting moment, I was whisked away from my familiar life into this bewildering new existence. Initially, I was certain that I was trapped in a vivid dream—a fantastical illusion that seemed to stretch on indefinitely. However, as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, it became increasingly clear that I was bound to stay in this unfamiliar place. By the time my first birthday rolled around, I had come to terms with my new reality, embracing it wholeheartedly. Today, as I celebrate my twelfth birthday, I find myself reflecting on the multitude of experiences that have shaped me over the years. This kingdom, I have realized, is strikingly underdeveloped compared to the world I once knew. Its societal landscape is rigidly structured, dominated by a hierarchy of nobles, with power and influence concentrated heavily within the royal family, particularly the king himself. Even though my family is counted among the nobility, we hold a modest position, governing one of the smallest territories within the expansive kingdom. An age-old tradition dictates that all noble children must begin their training in governance once they reach the age of twelve. Today signifies the commencement of that journey for me; I, Felix Borgon, I am stepping into my role as a budding baron. The day began like any typical morning, filled with the familiar comforts of home and the warmth of familial bonds. The delectable aroma of freshly baked bread encompassed the air as I eagerly settled down at the breakfast table, ready to embrace the day ahead. “Felix, are you prepared, son?” My father, Philip Borgon, inquired with a gentle yet firm tone. As a baron, he is regarded with great respect within our community, and his steadfast presence is a source of unwavering support for me. The gratitude and pride I feel for having him as my father runs deep. He embodies the same kindness and simplicity that I recall from my previous life on Earth—qualities that are both rare and precious. The villagers hold him in high esteem, and I can sense the adoration they have for him in their smiles and greetings. “Yeah, Dad, I’m ready,” I replied, reaching for a piece of the warm, crusty bread that lay invitingly on the table, its heat enveloping my fingers like a comforting embrace. “Just remember not to push yourself too hard,” my mother, Alicia Borgon, chimed in, her voice laced with concern as she offered her gentle reminder. “And don’t forget to take some water with you.” Having a mother like Alicia fills my heart with immense joy and appreciation. I never had the chance to know my birth mother on Earth; she tragically passed away during my birth, leaving me with an irreplaceable void in my life. My bond with Alicia runs deep, rich with attachment and affection; she has nurtured and cared for me in ways that transcend the ordinary. “Don’t worry, Mother. I promise I will never forget my water,” I assured her, flashing a reassuring smile filled with warmth. “We’re only heading to the fields, Alicia; there’s no cause for alarm,” my father interjected, seeking to placate her worries with a comforting tone. “I understand that, but today marks the beginning of your first day working, and I can't help but be a bit anxious,” my mother admitted, her love and concern evident in her expression. “Felix is well-acquainted with the villagers and visits the fields almost daily, so today’s tasks won't pose anything new. Plus, I will be right there with him, so there’s nothing to worry about,” Father said, his words a balm for my mother’s concerns. Though I recognize that her worry may sound a tad excessive considering we are merely going to the field, I hold her concern dear to my heart. It stands as a testament to the profound love she has for me, and while it can feel overwhelming on occasion, it also serves as a constant reminder of the unbreakable bond we share. As I prepare myself to embark on this new chapter of my life—one brimming with training, challenges, and responsibilities—I can’t help but feel a wild storm of emotions swirling within me. A thrilling mix of excitement and apprehension surges through my veins as I stand on the cusp of my destiny. The adventure awaits, filled with unknowns, lessons, and opportunities to grow into the baron I am destined to become! We completed our meal, the remnants of our shared moments still lingering in the air, and were now on our way to the fields. Our intention was to assess any issues that may have arisen with the crops. The journey was filled with anticipation—would we find evidence of trouble among the rows of vegetation that stretched into the distance? Throughout the day, we traversed various locations, visiting a number of fields that seemed to blend into one another in a patchwork of greens and browns. As I glanced around, I couldn’t help but notice a common theme during our visits: the workers were manually transporting their harvests. There wasn’t a single tool in sight to aid them in their labor. The sight struck me as particularly odd. In days gone by, I had never thought much of their methods. I often visited these fields with the intent of lending a helping hand, engaging in light-hearted conversations with the workers. Now, however, my perspective has shifted dramatically. Acting as the lord of the land, I found myself looking more critically at their practices. The labor that once seemed quaint now exposed itself as exceedingly time-consuming and inefficient. What had I missed during all those years? “How was your first day, son?” my father queried, his voice cutting through my contemplation as we made our way home in our carriage. “Father, there’s something I want to discuss,” I replied, eager to share my observations. “Just say it; what do you want to ask, son?” he encouraged, his attention piqued. “Why are the workers carrying the sacks on their backs all the way to the storage houses?” My curiosity bubbled over as I sought to understand why they were not utilizing any kind of tools to assist in this laborious task. “Why? Because that’s the way it’s done, even in other territories,” my father answered, a look of bewilderment crossing his face at the nature of my inquiry. “I have an idea, Father. Can you lend me a hand?” I had begun to formulate a new thought in my mind—a potential solution to the inefficiencies I had observed. “It seems like you’ve got an interesting idea at hand, my son. If it’s a worthwhile proposition and something I can support, I will do whatever I can to help you. Let’s discuss it further when we arrive home,” my father replied, enthusiasm evident in his tone. His excitement mirrored my own; I was eager to implement changes that could benefit the workers. Reflecting on my experiences, I felt a surge of inspiration, drawing from knowledge that someone long ago had devised tools to ease the burden of manual labor. These innovations—although unfamiliar to this world—have proven extremely useful. I was not attempting to steal their invention; instead, I hoped to introduce cherished ideas to help my friends in the village. “Mother, we’re home!” I exclaimed as I jumped down from the carriage, eager to share the day’s events. “Welcome home, my son! Dinner is ready. Come inside; let’s eat!” My mother’s warm voice greeted me, her home-cooked meals always a delight. “That can wait. Felix and I have something to discuss!” my father interjected, stepping in just behind me. “Your son works all day long, and you want him to work even at home? Are you trying to tire him out completely?” My mother teased, playfully grabbing my father’s ear, an expression of mock indignation on her face. “Ow! Stop it, Alicia! My ear is going to tear off! Felix has an interesting idea to discuss, so we’ll just talk about that, aww…” My father’s dignified demeanor melted away, his eyes glistening in surprise as he squirmed away from her playful grasp. “Mother, let’s eat! I’m hungry. Father, let’s talk about that after dinner; the soup will get cold if we continue wasting time!” I said, interrupting their banter. At my suggestion, my mother relented, retracting her playful hold and promptly taking her seat, ready to share a warm meal with us. The discussion could wait, but our family time was sacred. And amid the savory scents wafting from the kitchen, I felt a surge of anticipation for the conversations that would surely follow.