The Least Common Denominator

Interlude I: Eul

"She's not a normal child."

"I know that, Eul, but she's still our daughter."

Eul sighed for the umpteenth time as she had another one of those worrying conversations with her husband. She knew that Crimson was their daughter. Hell, she carried her to term and birthed her into this world herself! But there were still times that she could hardly believe she was even a mother.

Currently, little Cream was out tending to the garden outside; the redhead only had to tell her once before her little firecracker went into her chores like it was nothing. It was far from what she expected from a child. What's supposed to be an unruly, yet devastatingly cute little daughter was instead an obedient, curious, and frighteningly intelligent student.

"I know, and I still love her with all my heart," the young mother stared out towards the garden, watching her dutiful daughter go about her daily chores with frightening efficiency. "But she's scaring me, Pascal. Even now, Crimson's asking more questions that I don't want to tell the answer to."

Even after fifteen years of raising her, Eul still felt the impact of the horrifying realization that her child was smarter than her. It was enough to make any mother fear for their children, especially since they were still hiding from what was assuredly a hit squad from the Imperial Division Class.

"She's still a child, Eul." Pascal comforted his wife, a sturdy hand reaching for her shoulder to offer support. "Children are naturally curious. It just so happened that ours are a bit curiouser than most."

"Little Cream..." The worrying mother whispered, a hand on top of her chest as anxieties and fears for what she treasured the most swirled dangerously inside her.

She's still just a child, even though she's already blossoming into a beautiful young woman. It's like it was only yesterday that she taught her how to read and write the Common, and there she was now, her free-flowing locks glistening as the sun shone at her in the open field. She'd already told her daughter all there is to know about the Fraction System. It didn't stop her from learning more, but she at least hoped that her little Cream knew what she was doing in regards to learning about their abilities.

"She's a gifted blacksmith, y'know?" Beside her, her husband regaled, pride in his tone as he recounted their daughter's skill. "Took to Runecraft like a fish to water. I even think she's making other forms of weaponry that I've never seen before."

The proud father chuckled as Eul watched her daughter intently, remembering the days when her ten-year-old child asked her to teach her how to fight. It was an... experience to say the least.

"Reminds of the time she asked me how to wield a sword despite already knowing she's a Denominator." It was common knowledge that if one's a Numerator, they can't be a Denominator and vice-versa. But in spite of that... "She was surprisingly adamant, even knowing that she can never be a Numerator."

Numerators were glorified soldiers; their bodies naturally attuned for fighting. Combined with their inherent Elementalism, Numerators were prized throughout the Empire; the glory of having the title enough to catapult one into a life of luxury. Eul herself once donned the title; fighting for the crown and cutting down all that opposed the Numenorian Empire.

"Heh," Pascal chuckled, before turning his gaze towards a strangely shaped sword resting above the fireplace. "Too bad my blood was a little stronger than yours, Dear."

"She's still my little Cream, Dear." Eul shook her head at the light jab. "I'm glad she never took after your rugged mug~"

"She's still a Denominator." Her husband countered, albeit with a sense of resignation to his voice. "I just hope they don't get to us."

Denominators were doomed to be worthless supports for Numerators; only good for making the tools necessary for their Numerators to properly channel their power into the world. The redhead could only watch back then as most of her fellows abused and ridiculed their supposed partners; some using their Denominators as living target practice, others beating them down if their equipment broke. There were also some instances where she heard pained yells coming from an Integer Unit's shared rooms, a few of them being screams of female Denominators being assuredly raped by their Numerator partners.

It was a big reason why she fled the military alongside Pascal. An incident at the barracks just... broke her will to stay despite the fact that she'd be charged with treason to the crown.

"I know that look, Eul." Her husband's calming voice took her attention away from her thoughts. "It's not your fault."

"And you know very well that it most certainly is." The redhead rebuffed, a hand on her head as she struggled through the memory. "I almost killed you, Pascal. I don't know what I would've done if it actually happened."

It was a normal luncheon. Or, as normal as a luncheon for a Numerator of her rank. A rival let slip that she was being 'too soft' on her Denominator, that she wasn't befitting of her hard-earned rank through sheer skill and hard work. Like the unruly youth she once was, she let her pride do the talking for her, resulting in a promise that she couldn't take back, not if she wanted her reputation intact.

Eul didn't sleep for three days after she did what she had to do.

"Don't think about it," Pascal soothed, embracing the distraught woman in a hug. "We're here now, with a daughter to care for. I'm sure whoever they send won't be able to find us."

"I hope so," Eul leaned into her husband. "I don't want our little Cream to suffer out there in the capital."

It was the law after all, that anyone with the potential to become a Numerator or a Denominator be conscripted for the army. It didn't matter if they were poor, rich, noble-born, or lowborn...

If Emperor Babbage willed it, then the Army will no doubt make it happen.

It was short of a miracle that their quaint little family hasn't been found by Babbage's pet soldiers yet, but the protective mother knew it was only a matter of time before they do so. She knew how they think, and Numerators were nothing if not willful. They'll be here eventually, that much she knew.

"She won't, Eul." Her husband reassured, taking the strange-looking sword above the fireplace into his hands. "If anything, I'm sure you're more than able to defeat them."

"Guess I better start practicing then." She chuckled as she grabbed the thin sword from her husband's hands. The Numerator made a few practice swings with the strange weapon, getting a feel for the sword's unusual form. The blade glowed a dull blue in its peculiar patterns; its energy familiar, yet also different. "Who made this?"

"It's our daughter's first creation without my guidance," Pascal explained, also marveling at the blade's unusual shape and make. "When I asked her why it's so thin and-"

"Elegant?" It was nothing she'd ever seen before.

"Yes, elegant," the Denominator finished his prior thought before moving on to the next. "She said that it was a 'kah-tah-nah'."

"Kah-tah-nah?" The name never rang any bells, and she knew every kind weapon like the back of her hand.

"Cream explained that the excess metal on the floor of my shop was a waste and that there should be something she can use it for." Her husband continued. "Never in my life did I think a sword like that was even possible."

Eul returned her gaze to her daughter's creation. It was nothing like the redhead's ever seen before; a leather-bound pommel, with the whole thing curved slightly at an angle like a half-bow. On the blade was a wave-like pattern that shone with Runic Energy, something that she never thought was even possible due to the Runes' nature to etch itself into sharp angles and corners. The Numerator channeled some of her Element into the sword, watching as the dull blue turned into her distinctly fiery red color. Her eyes widened at a certain realization:

"Pa-Pascal," Eul felt the faintest of what was usually a moderate drain on her reserves as she carefully swung the weapon. "Th-the sword. I can barely feel my reserves going down."

"What?"

"It's frighteningly mana-efficient." Her eyes widened at the implication of such a weapon. While Numerators were used to prolonged bouts of fighting, there was still a limit to how far one can push oneself to fight. If her assessment of the blade was correct... "I think I can fight at least fifty times longer with this than with any of your other weapons."

"Thanks for the compliment, Dear."

"This isn't time for sarcasm, Pascal," Eul stressed, a hint of panic tinting her tone. "We have to make sure nobody finds out. If they find her-"

"Eul!" She felt the firm grip of her husband's hands around her arms. "Calm down. We'll get through this."

The worried mother stopped herself from sobbing in fear. Yes... They won't find them out here, on the outskirts of the Empire. They just had to lay low. They already mapped out all possible escape routes should a Division squad come for them. If all else, she can still fight for the three of them. If worst comes to wo-

"I've got the tomatoes!"

The husband and wife turned towards the open door, smiling in relief as their little Crimson calmly walked back into their humble abode with freshly-picked vegetables from the garden. Eul watched as her daughter's beautiful face scrunched up at the sight of them, clearly sensing the light distress coming off of the pair. "Is something wrong?"

"No! It's nothing, Dear." The redhead lied with the best of her abilities as she gave the sword back to her husband in favor of helping her daughter with their food. "Let's get those vegetables cleaned, shall we?" She had to put up a strong front, both as the mother and would-be defender of her household.

"Okay." Her little Cream addressed with the same reverent tone she'd used since she was a little girl. "I'll start with the potatoes."

Eul smiled as the mother-daughter pair went into the kitchen, their hands busy with the day's next meal. It was these moments that the Numerator wanted to preserve; the innocent lifestyle of a humble citizen. But alas, they both cursed their daughter with their abilities.

Doomed to become a slave for the Empire should she show her potential.

A grim determination washed over the mother as her hands mechanically went about its duties in the kitchen; a blazing hot flame lighting up her soul. A fire she hadn't felt after years of being a mother. If- no... When they do come. Once the tendrils of Babbage's rule comes knocking at the door...

She'll just have to remind them just why she was once a member of the Prime Thirteen.

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