Chapter 3: The Second Beginning

Chapter 3: The Second Beginning

James - aka: Landar

I woke up covered in sweat, tucked into my sheets in a way that made it difficult to squirm out of. What is this? I asked as I strained against the bedding with all my strength.

Which, I was surprised to learn, wasnt very much strength at all.

What? I asked as I opened my crusty eyes and found I wasnt tied down with ropes or anything else nefarious. Yup, thats just bedding, I thought with amazement. Some pretty damn good bedding.

I tried to kick out of it, but my legs were just as tightly tucked. What is going on?!

I stopped fighting and listened to my voice. Hello? What? Thats not my voice. It was too high pitched, squeaky, and child-like. I havent sounded like this since the second grade, I thought as my mind reeled.

A coma. Thats the only thing that made sense. I must have been hit so hard I was put in a coma for years, to wake up so weak, unable to even un-tuck myself from the bed.

A woman opened the door to the small stuffy room I was in. Her bright golden hair framed a youthful face, creased with worry and eyes swollen with tears. Oh, youre awake! The womans sad puffy eyes lit up, and she turned around and yelled back into the room behind her. Tomas, Tomas come quick! Landar is awake!

I have to admit; I was a bit intimidated by the giant that came through the door. He barely fit inside the small space. His shoulders were broad. He was almost tall enough to need to duck walking inside. His head was covered in a thick mesh of brown short cropped hair, and his expression was one of relief.

Boy, you gave us a scare. The man bent down beside my bed and kissed me on the forehead.

What?! Who are you? No, dont! His kiss was wet, and when he pulled away, I felt it lingering on my forehead. He wiped it away with a rough and calloused palm as he placed it on my head.

Youre still feverish, but its breaking. Do you not remember us?

Hes speaking better than he has in days. the woman said, her eyes brimming with tears of joy.

True, but if hes not remembering us, its best if we go get a healer.

Ill go fetch Mother Margeret. With that, the woman darted out of the room fast enough to make my head spin.

Dont worry, boy. Mother Margaret said that if you survived the fever, youd survive this bout with your illness. His cheerful expression vanished for a moment. Though she did say it would be likely to come back.

As the mans thumb rubbed my forehead, multiple curse words came to mind and started bubbling off my lips until, almost like someone turned on a light switch, ten years of childhood memories filled my mind. I winced at the pain, and my vision swooned.

Landar. Landar, are you okay? Your eyes just went cross, asked the man who I now knew was my father. Had been my father for twelve years in this world. Twelve years of sickness, and him sitting nearly constant vigil over me whenever he had the time to spare.

I shook my head and my vision focused, though I felt a wave of pure exhaustion roll over me. It was not a totally unfamiliar feeling. When it passed, I looked up into the massive brute of a mans eyes, and found worry and love there.

Dad? His smile could have cracked boulders as he pulled me into a hug.

At least Im no longer tucked in so tight I cant move, I thought as I uselessly pushed against his gigantic arms. God, is this what other people felt when I hugged them? Its suffocating and terrifying!

Dont worry son. Father, Tomas was his proper name I remembered, let me go and eased me back into bed. You need your rest, boy. Sleep, Ill wake you when Mother Margaret gets here.

With that permission, and the mans extremely heavy hand resting on my chest, probably limiting my oxygen intake, I fell fast asleep.The inaugural upload of this chapter took place via N0v3l-B1n.

***

When I woke up, I was tucked in tightly again and unable to move. I sighed, giving in too the fact that my mothers tucking skills surpassed my strength. After my initial struggle, I found an old woman sitting on the small stool that was the only other piece of furniture in the room.

Hello? I asked, my voice still sounded odd to me.

Oh good, youre awake. Your mother is cooking, and your father is at work for the evening. Shell be bringing in stew shortly, I suspect. How are you feeling, Landar?

I remembered this withered old woman only vaguely. She had tended to me several times before when my illness had grown bad and I had been bedridden for days at a time.

Im feeling better, but really weak.

The old woman searched through her gray robes while nodding to herself. Yes, that would make sense. Youve probably experienced muscle fatigue worse than Ive seen in nearly anyone else. Ah, here we go. She produced a small piece of glass that looked the same size as a pocket watch and lifted it to one eye.

A moment later, a light glow appeared around it. Yes, yes, I see. You have virtually no foundation of strength at all now, you poor thing. Though it appears your mental and spiritual foundations have jumped dramatically. Hmmmm.

The old woman leaned against the wall, one eye closed, examining me through the small piece of metal rimmed glass she held in her hand for a long time.

You might have a bright future as an accountant, or scrivener, or even a Priest. If we can find an outlet for your mana-poisoning, that is. She put away the glass and pulled out a small piece of paper she had scribbled some notes on.

Mana poisoning? I stammered. I had heard of mana before. It was in all the games I used to play as a child, and in some of my favorite books. Like, magic?

The woman gave me a sharp look. Her penetrating glare was broken only when my mom entered the room carrying a small wooden bowl of stew. Broth Landar. Drink. Itll help you recover.

The pang of sorrow over missing my daughter swept through me, but I knew she would be okay. She was on the verge of going to college, and I had friends on Earth who would look after her no matter if I was dead or not. She was a good girl, with a solid head on her shoulders. I found the mirror of my emotions plastered on Tomass face when my new father answered my question.

Im Captain of the southern guard house son. The strongest warrior there. He flexed an arm, and I found his muscles in just his bicep were almost as large as my entire body. The man made me, in my former life, look small.

Which was a hard thing to do.

How the hell did this guy give birth to this scrawny scarecrow? I asked myself as I examined my new body compared to the man who had sired it. I should be jacked to the nines. Not looking like Jack Skellington lost a fight against both anorexia and dwarfism.

Its a hard job, but its good work. I keep beasts from harassing travelers, check the lower nobility visas as we are a regional capital, and manage the training and education of the other guards. Its a hard job, son, but its a good trade.

The room fell back to silence as Tomas struggled with the dog carving and I watched. After a few minutes of watching him struggle, I had had enough.

Father? He stopped what he was doing and looked at me. Can I try?

He gave me an uneasy look. Are you sure you can hold the knife without hurting yourself? His question was perfectly legitimate. But I felt it stab at my pride, anyway. I thrust out both hands and with a smile, he handed the knife and the wood block over. If youre sure.

My hands almost immediately started cramping and my arms ached, trying to hold both at once. So I placed the figure down and held the knife from the flat edge with both hands. It was awkward at first, but Id learned to whittle as a kid years and years ago back home.

The first thing I did was run an open hand over the wood to feel its grain. It was a soft wood, and was knotted and gnarly. The grain changed direction almost every inch or so. I gave off a frustrated grunt as I took the knife and began carving.

I didnt last long, but by the end of my five minutes working on the thing, it already looked closer to a proper dog than it did a bear.

Well done, Landar. Tomas said, taking the rough dog shape from off the table and examining it.

If you get me wood with a single grain, I can do better. A lot better than that. I yawned, and my jaw threatened to spasm.

Ill see what I can get from the scrap pile tomorrow to bring back for you. Perhaps this can be something for you to do while you recover. Tomas stood quietly and plucked me from the bench. Come. Back to bed with you.

I was asleep before he put me down.

***

That morning father slept while Elsbeth and my sister Tabitha cleaned and cooked for the day. I watched and listened as both women talked to me and explained and taught what they were doing and why.

As I listened, it became clear that this society was pre-industrial. Our class was clearly something close to peasants or perhaps freed-men. Fathers position guaranteed us free rent provided by the city guard, but it also brought in very little in the way of money. So mother and Tabitha had to work side jobs to pay for, make, or trade for everything else we needed.

Tabitha was fifteen years old. Shed have her coming of age ceremony in a years time, and there were already several sutors calling on her. The women talked about each of them like me and my friends would talk about sports back home. The same level of enthusiasm, and the same level of brutal scrutiny.

It made me nostalgic in some ways.

When I asked which of them Tabitha loved, she blushed and my mother laughed. Getting married for love is wonderful. If you can find it where you wont starve to death. Your father and I are a good example of the right people at the right time. But it is very, very rare to find a young man to love who is capable of caring for you and your family. When you yourself are one day looking for a match, it wont be among the women your same age most likely. Itll be from those younger than you. And such marriages seldom come with love before the ceremony.

Though it is very common for love to blossom after. Your grandfather and grandmother are like that, you know? An arranged marriage that blossomed into true love. That is what we are hoping happens for Tabitha.

My older sister smiled back at me as she swept the floor clean of dirt and dust. Moms right, Landar. Dont worry, well choose someone kind and reputable who I hope to grow to love.

Wow, we really are in a medieval society. Holy crap. But you wouldnt deny her a match of love if she found one before her coming of age ceremony, would you?

My mother stopped her work and looked over at me. Only if he could provide for her. Otherwise? Yes, Yes I would. I wouldnt be a good mother if I let my children marry for love and starve to death come their first winter.

They went back to working and talking about the various matches and their merits while I listened.

It wasnt until just after noon when father woke up. He showed Elsbeth the figure I had helped him carve, and she smiled as bright as the sun. This is good work. Be sure to bring home more wood from the scrap pile for him to test his skill on.

My father agreed, and we ate lunch together. The food in this world was rather simple. Reminiscent of European food. Some kind of potato substitute made up most of what we ate. But there was also a type of chicken, and various vegetables that all seemed to taste the same once steamed and boiled.

Do we have flour? I asked as I watched my family clean up after the meal. I tried to help a little here or there, but honestly, my body was useless. Just staying awake and asking questions was exhausting.

We have some stored for winter. Why? Elsbeth asked as she scrubbed the dishes in the small water basin.

Just wondering. Im interested in learning to cook. My mother brightened almost instantly as she started talking about various recipes, cooking methods, and types of food. Apparently, one of the ways she made extra coin for the family was baking bread for the neighborhood in our oven. Actual bread was hard to make, so most people ate what amounted to pancakes or tortillas. Things easily cooked in a pot or on a skillet over a fire.

But our apartment at the top of the four story complex was one of the few allowed to have a proper oven for baking. So the neighborhood occasionally brought their flour over and paid a tiny amount of coin to have it cooked along with ours. Usually, payment came as a measure of flour from what was being cooked, but when coin could be paid, they added it to the family coffers.

When I asked why we had an oven and the others didnt, my mother smiled with a slight twinkle in her eye. Your fathers position comes with a few privileges. Like free rent, treatment by the gray priesthood when one of us is sick, and of course the right to bake our own bread without a bakers license. We should be grateful, few peasants are granted that right. Your father worked long and hard to get where he is, and its only thanks to him we are as happy and prosperous as we are. Id be happy to teach you baking if you like, son.

I agreed, but it would have to be later once my stamina and energy increased.

After father left, I ended up falling asleep. Dreaming dreams of baked bread and novels written in the 18th century about Pride and Prejudice.