Adrien Holcaster was a pretty stand-up guy if he did say so himself. Sure he got drunk on occasion, and sometimes he ran his mouth a little but he always knew when enough was enough and was the first to apologise if he ever made a situation worse. He had a pretty good grasp of people and was always able to match people's energy to make them feel comfortable or help them when they were feeling down. He always thought he got that trait from his mother. She raised him on her own, so they were incredibly close, and even now he was at university they still talked a lot on the phone, or whenever either of them had problems to share.

“Well, Mum is sure as hell going to be mad at this one,” Adrian thought as he looked down at the knife sticking out from his chest. “Twenty years old and you don’t know better than to run towards the man with the knife? God I am such a jackass,”.

As his hands started to get cold, he could see people running towards him. The man who had been brandishing the knife was being held on the floor screaming about something, and the boy who had been being threatened was crying and staring at Adrian with wide eyes. Adrian forced out a smile. He didn’t want to die, but the crying child in front of him wasn’t something he could ignore even in as much pain as he was.

“Don’t worry so much kid, I would always rather you than me. I just hope Mum gets through it alright, she is such a worrier.” And with that last thought, Adrian Holcaster’s soul slipped from his body along with his final breath.

* * *

“Well shit,” spat a young boy sat on the floor surrounded by books. He remembered coming into his family's library to try and read a little about the surrounding area, but halfway through the first page his head started to spin and he had to lie on the floor to stop himself from throwing up from the sensation. After a few moments, memories started to pour into his skull, memories of another life in another world, a vastly different world.

He remembered a world with cars, technology and smartphones.

He remembered university exams, friends and loved ones.

He remembered a dangerous moment, a sharp blade and then searing pain.

He remembered a mother who must have lost her son too soon.

The boy stumbled to his feet and ran out through the heavy wooden door, leaving open books and papers strewn on the floor behind him, weaving through the halls until he entered his bedroom. Staggering to the basin full of water he had washed his face in not an hour before, he stared into his reflection as he tried to collect the memories he knew and the memories he didn’t quite understand.

Adrian Holcaster had been Twenty years old with short, dark brown hair and brown eyes. He had a crooked nose from breaking it falling down a flight of stairs, and a light dusting of freckles across his cheeks. His shoulders had been broad and his belly had just been starting to get a little softer than it should have been. The face in the pool of water in front of the boy looked nothing like that, and it helped his mind sort the memories of the past ten years and of Adrian into separate entities.

The face looking out at him from the reflection was young, smooth and unblemished. Deep blue eyes peered out of almost blindingly pale skin, a smooth and straight nose and jaw still rounded by baby fat. Long, thick silver hair fell down around his shoulders, held back from his face with a tied leather strand. A droplet of blood fell from the wound bitten into the corner of the lower lip in the stress and haste to get back to this basin, and as it splashed into the water it was as if everything around the young face staring out at him became crystal clear.

As the surroundings of the room filled with clarity, Eres von Hytheiem stared at the face that had looked back at him every day for the last ten years of his life as if it were a stranger. He remembered a life and death in another world, and the last few years of his life as Eres clearly, but now he was struggling to understand. Had he always been influenced by Adrian? Or now he had these memories did the person he was change? Would his family notice the difference?

As that last thought crossed his mind, his stomach soured. He remembered Adrian’s mother, a kind and loving woman who always wanted the best for her son, who tucked him in when he was small and looked after him when he was sick. He remembered the worried look on her face when he came home too late, or how she consoled him through breakups with humour and warmth. Sure it had only been the two of them, but they had been a close and loving family.

Looking around the spacious bedroom, Eres felt regret twist his heart. Leaving his mother back when he was still Adrian was painful, but now he was living a life of luxury and abundance, he missed her even more. The room he was in was covered in finery, a large bed placed against the far wall, long drapes pulled back almost floor-to-ceiling windows let light stream onto the thick carpeted floor. Yet after sprinting through the hallways with his eyes wide and making a fuss and noise, not a single person had come to check on him.

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“I miss you now, Mum,” he muttered. The voice was high and shaky, not yet having broken. As tears began gathering in his eyes, he sank to the floor and cried for a woman in a different world, and the pain she must have felt. Just like any other ten year old when something hurt, he cried for his mother, but no one came.

* * *

After nearly an hour of crying and sorting through his emotions, Eres began to think about what he knew about the world and the new light he could see it in with the memories from his previous life.

Eres was born as the third child of Baron Kyer and Baroness Adalia of the Hytheiem household. The world he was in was one like so many of the stories he had read before, a world of magic and monsters. This society worked on systems of feudal significance, commoners working for Nobles who were working for Kings and Queens. As the third child, he was considered of lesser importance. Baron Kyer was the ruler of this small Barony, but he had designs on so much more. He married his wife simply to achieve his title and has been sparing no expense to train his firstborn son, Illyon as a worthy heir.

Ilyon was currently seventeen, a year above the age of majority, but Baron Kyer still believed he had much to teach him, so he was still living in the main house, still treating the servants with an imperious nature and still glaring strangely at Eres over dinner.

The second child was Eres’s sister, Ellsa. Only a year older than him, he had many fond memories of playing together when they were still toddlers and young children, but last year she was taken to learn etiquette and grow up as a “proper lady of this household” as the Baron put it.

As his new memories were firmly settling into place, a sense of distaste was spreading through his body at his father's actions. He knew logically that marrying for power and status was incredibly common, and even the books Eres was read as a child by his nanny had many stories of arranged marriages between Princes and Princesses who grew up happily ever after, as if it was the only way things were done. But to tie someone who doesn’t love you into your desire for power and then impart that same belief to your children? Eres felt his muscles tighten as his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists.

As the third child, he had been mostly ignored, taught the basics of society and literacy and told to read whatever was of interest to him. His Father had been teaching Illyon and his mother was always out at societal events. Tea parties, balls, sports gatherings and hunting competitions, if there were to be other nobility there the Baron insisted on their family showing a presence. It was almost funny how often that presenting the family as a strong unit fell to his wife and never to him.

As footsteps started to move on the stone floor outside, Eres stood up and washed his face of any remnants of tears. The clacking of heels on granite rang through his head until he looked up at the doorway to see an old woman in a long brown dress.

The Head Maid, Bruna, stared at him with the same gaze that almost looked through him. As if she didn’t see a person standing there, but a disposable thing. A replacement for if something awful happened to the true children of the house. It made him feel queasy imagining this old crone's thoughts about him.

“Young Master, it is time. Follow me to the entrance hall,”. Her words were crisp and proper, as formal and respectful as if she was talking to the Baron himself, but the stone mask of her face never once moved into anything other than sealed contempt. Her grey hair was pulled into a tight bun above her head making her already stiff countenance even more severe. Without waiting for a response she turned on her heel and started walking down the hallway, leaving Eres to scramble to catch up.

“Excuse me, Bruna,” He said, his voice cracking a little from the work for crying earlier. “You said it is time? Time for what, I didn’t realise I had an appointment today?”. Racking his brains as hard as he could, Eres couldn’t remember the maids mentioning anything to him when they woke him up for breakfast this morning. He could have sworn he saw Bruna’s shoulders twitch as he spoke to her, only realising after that he had probably not sounded like a ten-year-old should.

“Your tenth birthday was a week ago, Young Master, so your Blessing should be stable now. Your Mother and Father are taking you to the temple so you can get it confirmed by the Priest there,” the Head Maid’s tone was still clipped and proper, but her gaze stayed straight forwards even when talking to one of the members of the house. Her conduct would be considered rude by anyone, but Eres didn’t even consider questioning it. He remembered that this was how he had always been treated and making a fuss out of it now might lead someone to think something had changed. He needed to slowly change his position in the household so that it wouldn’t cause backlash.

It was only as he started to descend the stairs that the actual contents of Bruna’s words sunk in. Eres had a simple knowledge of Blessings as Gifts from the Gods that improved one's ability in various forms of combat, but memories of fantasy novels, games and comics from Adrian’s world were swirling around in his head. Any fear that might have existed from being in a world of monsters and violence was suppressed by Eres’s memories, as it was all he had ever known, all that was left was Eres’s excitement at receiving a blessing from the Gods and Adrian’s excitement at something he had seen so many times.

As he followed Bruna downstairs and through the large front doors to a pair of horse-drawn carriages, to wait for the master of the house, a smile began to build on his young face, and his blue eyes seemed to shine with light. Like this, the memories began to coalesce and any true distinction between the two personalities blurred further.