Parenting In The Nameless World

Obviously, there are details I’m not going to go into – and I can only speak in generalised terms anyway – but this is a brief outline that may answer a few questions.

The Nameless World takes a profoundly different view of child-raising than the modern-day West. In particular, there is no real concept that childhood is a time to be enjoyed – children are expected to start working and/or studying as soon as they are physically able to do so, with an eye to their future adulthood. The Nameless World does recognise, on one hand, that children and teenagers are immature (to the point where allowances will be made for their behaviour, if it isn’t strikingly out of hand), but it also recognises that parents have a duty to turn their children into productive citizens as quickly as possible.

There is no concept of the ‘parent as best friend.’ Parents have near-complete authority over their children (the only real exception to this is where there’s a clan-structure and the ultimate authority is the boss) and can dictate every aspect of their young lives. An older child can leave, in theory, but that child would almost certainly be disowned. ‘Because I said so’ is a perfectly valid argument, as far as the Nameless World is concerned.

A child born to a peasant family would be put to work as soon as he or she was physically able. Parents teach them the skills they need from the start. Sons work in the fields; daughters learn to cook, sew and take care of the animals. Craftsmen would treat their sons – and rarely their daughters, although it does happen – as apprentices. A son would be expected to follow his father into the family trade. Daughters would be expected to be an asset to whichever family they marry into.

A child born to a merchant family would be taught the basics of trade, again from a very early age. They’d be expected to master reading and writing, all the other skills necessary for merchant life. They’d be working behind the counter as soon as they could do it, then shadowing their parents as they make trades.

A child born to an aristocratic family would be trained in everything from war-fighting to courtly etiquette from birth. They would probably be farmed out to another aristocratic family of similar rank for at least part of their teens, on the theory that parents wouldn’t be strict enough with their own children. The higher-ranking ones – male and female alike – would be expected to take the lead, in discussions with their peers. Daughters, in particular, would be taught how to command a household; sons would be expected to know how to fight and negotiate, depending on circumstances. (Randor was neglectful, by the standards of his world.)

A child born to a magical family would be trained in magical theory even before they developed magic. Like noblemen, there would be a high focus on practical learning and working with others; young magicians (male and female alike) are expected to build up networks of friendships and patronage. (Sons and daughters get very similar treatment.) Unlike noblemen, there is no concern about ‘blood’ – the child of a newborn magician who marries into a family will not be treated any differently.

Parents across the Nameless World expected to have a say in who their child marries, when he or she comes of age. However, wise parents work hard to ensure their children are reasonably happy with their choice.

Both aristocratic and magical families face the same problem, when it comes to rearing children. On one hand, the children must be groomed to support their parents and then replace their parents; on the other hand, the children must not be either allowed to rebel or appear weak. (The Nameless World has had quite a few figures akin to Robert Curthose and Henry the Young King.) Finding something that keeps their children busy and in practice, without encouraging them to consider rebellion, keeps many of the aristocracy up late at night. One’s child must be independent, but not too independent.

Several readers have questioned why Void isn’t a stronger presence in Emily’s life (and why this doesn’t lead people to suspect the truth) and/or why the prospect of her presumed father’s retaliation isn’t worrying some of her enemies.

To answer the first point, good parenting – as far as the magical community is concerned – involves letting one’s child make mistakes and learn from them. Void is not expected to come to the rescue every time Emily stubs her toe, as that will stunt Emily’s growth as an adult. No one is particularly surprised that Void isn’t hovering around Whitehall, watching Emily. In this, he’s no different from hundreds of real parents. There’s no such thing as ‘Helicopter Parents’ in the Nameless World.

To answer the second point, everyone expects Emily to stand on her own. Void cannot put out too much of a security blanket without weakening her reputation, which would haunt her as she grows into adulthood and beyond. He might be inclined to extract revenge for a daughter – and just above everyone believes that she is his daughter or, at the very least, closely related to him – but not to save Emily from the consequences of her own mistakes.

He could have said something after Emily was manipulated into challenging Master Grey, for example, but that would have weakened Emily’s reputation badly. She would end up looking like a smarmy teacher’s pet, rather than a powerful magician in her own right.

Not a good thing, in other words.