3 – Infancy Period – Father/Son Routine
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A few weeks passed. During that time, Isaac began to become more familiar with his new life as he managed to maintain his consciousness back at a normal level.

It was a simply daily routine. In the morning he would wake up, get fed from a bottle and then play with his mom. He had managed to learn how to crawl, so his mother amused herself by watching him explore and trying to teach him various things. His dad seemed to leave early in the morning since that guy never showed up until dinnertime, when the entire family would gather around the dining table.

The exception to that was the weekend, when it was his mom who left early in the morning, leaving Isaac with his father.

Today was one of those days.

Isaac's eyes blinked as his surroundings slowly came into view.

The sun from the window outside filtered through the glass, showing that it was still early in the morning. A few orange leaves drifting past also showed that it was nearing fall.

That reminded Isaac. If it was fall now, did that mean that he was born in the middle of winter? Considering his family was Frostblade, that was a bit coincidental.

The door to Isaac's room opened.

Isaac blinked again and rolled over, taking a look.

Robert walked in, carrying a milk bottle in his right hand. As always, the cool guy was wearing a fancy attire. Instead of the usual long coat, he had on a crisp black dress shirt and slacks.

It made Isaac wonder if his dad was always on work duty or if he was just that professional. Probably the second part.

"Good morning, Son." Robert nodded at Isaac and then handed him the bottle.

As always, Isaac took the bottle and then had his breakfast. And, as always, when he finished, his father picked him up.

Usually, they would head over to the living room where his father would set him down with some toys and then open up a book to read. Today though, they headed somewhere else.

Isaac blinked and took a look around.

It was a part of the house that he hadn't been to. Down a long corridor and to the left, stopping before a heavy metal door.

Was his father doing something important?

While Isaac was wondering about the door, his father reached over and tapped something on the side. Not long after, the door slid open with a soft *hiss*.

Isaac blinked and turned to look inside the room.

Despite the high-security door, the space inside was fairly normal. The floor was a lush gray carpet while the walls were painted a cool dark blue. There was a window in the back, revealing a forest clearing with a pond in the middle of it. Beyond that, there was a seemingly endless stretch of trees.

A red oak desk sat in the middle of the room, paired with a tall wooden chair with black leather cushions. A few pieces of papers were laid out on top of it while a book and a ceramic cup of pens sat on its edge.

As for the rest of the furniture, against the walls, there were lines of book cases. Leather-bound books, a few dusty paperbacks, and even a couple binders. Hanging above those were framed portraits.

From them, Isaac could see that dyeing hair blue ran in the family. That, and liking swords. An old man with light blue hair and frosty tips standing in military garb with a saber sheathed at his side. A young woman with long dark blue hair carrying a rapier. And then a family portrait with a mother, father, two sons and a daughter. Although the oldest of the kids, a teenaged boy and girl, had dyed their hair to match their mother and father, the last and youngest of the group had ordinary black hair.

Standing in the middle of the group, that kid with black hair seemed out of place. It also didn't help that he was the only one without a sword of some kind with him.

Robert noticed Isaac staring at the picture. "Curious about those, I see." He walked closer and shifted Isaac to get a better look. As he did, Robert pointed to the couple. "These two are your grandfather and grandmother. They were a bit strict, but always well meaning."

Isaac focused on the two. As he did, he could begin to see the resemblance.

The man in the portrait had roughly the same facial features as Robert. They were sharper, more rugged and chiseled, but the eyes and cool gaze was the same.

As for the woman, it seemed that she was the source of Robert's softer features. She had flawless skin that seemed almost porcelain and a beautiful face that made the fact that her hair was blue seem natural.

A faint smile crossed Robert's face as he stared at the couple, but then he pointed towards the teenage boy. "This here is your uncle, Al." Almost immediately, the smile faded. "Hm. Even in the picture he's trying to show off. I'd forgotten about that."

Like the man in the portrait, the teenage boy had rugged features. He was also muscular, a fact that he clearly emphasized in the pose by flexing his arm. It was subtle, unnoticed by the couple, but clear to whoever was looking at the picture.

Robert shook his head and then pointed to the girl. "This is your aunt, Isabella." His eyes lit up and the smile that faded returned as he stared at her. "She was always causing trouble for father because so many people tried to court her. She never accepted, but that didn't stop them from trying."

Isaac glanced at the girl and found himself agreeing.

If the woman in the portrait was beautiful, then that girl was breathtaking. She was still young, mid-teens at best, but that didn't detract from her beauty at all. Flowing silver hair with a shimmer of blue, a lovely smile with soft pink lips and kind eyes sparkling like sapphires.

Well, if Isaac had any concerns about his looks growing up in this life, he didn't have them now.

Robert stared at the photo for a while and then started to leave.

Before he could though, Isaac tugged at his shirt and pointed- Well, tried to point but ended up grabbing, at the last person.

Robert looked down at Isaac and then shook his head. "That last person is just me. No need to dwell on it, son."

It was a clear dismissal.

Realizing that, Isaac lowered his hand and remained quiet. Still, he wondered. Why did his dad refer to them all in the past tense?

Robert walked over to the desk and then set Isaac on the floor nearby.

Isaac blinked at the sudden act and looked up at his father.

Robert stared back and said, "There's something I have to do today, Son, so I'm afraid that you'll have to entertain yourself. Is that alright?"

Isaac nodded.

Robert nodded back and then sat down at his desk. He grabbed a pen from the container and then opened that book on the table. Not long after, the soft sounds of a pen scratching against paper echoed in the room.

Watching his father work, Isaac couldn't help but think that the guy was a bit off.

It wasn't like Robert could know for sure that Isaac understood him, but he acted as if Isaac did. Granted, that had become the norm between the two, but even still...

Well, it didn't matter too much either way. And it was much better than being embarrassed by Mom playing baby games and blowing raspberries at him.

Since his father was busy, Isaac decided to focus on his own work.

Now that he was conscious and mobile, Isaac's immediate task was to get communicating. He also had to make his body stronger while he could so he didn't have to deal with all the pains of trying to do it when his body had already finished developing.

Of course, since he was still a baby that couldn't even walk, the most he could do was crawl around.

But small steps!

"Ba... ga... da... ma..." While crawling around the room in laps, Isaac slowly practiced enunciating his syllables.

The lack of teeth made that a difficult task. The lack of fine motor skills made it worse.

But Isaac was determined.

Besides, it wasn't as bad as trying to learn Mandarin. The language that his parents spoke was similar enough to English in its pronunciation that the sounds weren't unfamiliar.

"Gi... me..."

In that office, a strange sight played out. A cold and aloof man sat at his desk, calmly writing into a leather bound book. Meanwhile, his son, a mere baby, shuffled around on the floor in a circle, mumbling under his breath.

Considering that the only sounds in that room were the scratching of a pen and the baby's strange muttering, it was even more eerie.

Of course, neither of the two noticed nor cared.

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