Chapter 2: Mandatory Lore Dump

I woke up to a pounding headache, a mouth dry as the Sahara Desert and a deep, persistent ache in my belly. None of this was unusual per se, I’d certainly had enough hangovers, over the decades of heavy drinking prevalent in the upper echelons of the business world. One more was hardly a surprise. No, the surprise in this instance was that I woke up at all. The national speed limit in England was seventy miles an hour. I’d been coasting at that, before rocketing to upwards of a hundred miles an hour as I made my final approach. The lorry had been doing seventy as well, and weighed at least five tonnes. There should have been no getting back up from that.

Yet awake I was, in a bed far too comfortable to belong to the National Health Service. The room itself was just as opulent; I’d been in my fair share of hospitals, but it was safe to say none of them boasted gold plated walls and silk curtains adorned in kaleidoscopic colour. The decor stood out a lot, and yet somehow it remained the lesser of two concerns just then.

[Will Swindell

Level 17 Child]

Because there, in black and white and floating squarely before my eyes, was my bigger concern by far, enough for urgency to overpower even my migraine and grant me blessed clarity of thought. I promised to myself at that moment, that if I ever found the person responsible for my reincarnation, I would firstly thank them for my continued survival in the face of adversity. Then, after formalities were concluded, I’d knee them as hard as I could in the family jewels for giving me the name Will Swindell in my second life. Yes, I swindled a lot of pensioners, but I already died for those crimes so surely I deserved a mulligan? Alas, that wasn’t likely to happen any time soon, so I was forced to prioritise, putting thoughts of distant vengeance - and legally changing my name - aside in favour of acclimating to my new background.

It was, in a word, sparse. In addition to my memories of a life fully lived on Earth, I now also had an additional seventeen years of life crammed in my head, all of them spent at a single orphanage; one of many that dotted every major settlement in the Kingdom of Frontier. It was to be expected, given Frontier’s status as a boundary nation; sitting on the very edge of the map that marked the dominion of mankind. I had it better than most, even, living in a farming village deep within the borders; whilst raids and infiltrators remained ever present threats, no full invasion had reached this far since before I was reborn.

My second life wasn’t too bad either, prior to the reawakening of my memories. I’d never met my new parents, and from what little I knew both had served and died in battle, leaving the sum of their holdings to me in my infancy. Without any relatives to take me, I was given to the care of the state, where the monies inherited guaranteed me three warm meals a day, a place to sleep, and schooling in letters, etiquette, arithmetic and physical education.

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The provisions were basic, yes, by the standards of a modern English childhood; but they were also more than many of Earth’s less fortunate received, even in 2024, and far beyond my expectations for a land stuck largely in the mediaeval period. This arrangement was designed to last until adulthood, at which time any funds remaining would be returned to me; typically enough, according to information gleaned from older boys who left the orphanage before me, to fund three to six months of lodgings while searching for a job.

I very much considered these the memories of another person, because even though I now had them, they felt very impersonal, distant even, compared to the vibrant memories of my life in London. That came as no surprise to me; given how that life was more than four times as long and far more eventful. William was a quiet, introverted boy, who performed his chores without complaint and otherwise was content to hide away, out of sight and mind. That made him the ideal child for the stressed and overworked orphanage staff; he had no friends, and got in no trouble. In a sense, while he existed, he never truly lived.

That suited me just fine, because it meant I was as close to a blank slate as possible while still possessing a birth certificate; it meant I wouldn’t have to pretend to be someone I wasn’t. I could pull it off, for sure, I’m a very good actor when it matters, but that didn’t mean I’d enjoy the process. Altogether, I was very happy with my circumstances; I’d received what amounted to a second life, one completely divorced from my prior notoriety and a truly limitless chance to remake myself. The one downside to all of those, perhaps, was the reason I’d woken up in a hospital bed in the first place.

[Will Swindell

Level 17 Child

Foundation Building: One Level received for every full year lived. Child class evolves at Level 18.]

See, the concept of a teenager didn’t exist in this new world. You were born a Child, and stayed one until the System dictated otherwise. For humans, that happened on our eighteenth birthday, and nobody knew for certain what that Child class would turn into. Oh, people had their observations and guesses, and some general truisms could be found. A child who spends more time practising the blade was more likely to get the Soldier class, while a noble scion who grew up in the cut and thrust of court was more likely to become a Scholar, a Courtier or an Assassin.

But nurture only contributed so much, and nature left more than enough uncertainty to inadvertently create a remarkably egalitarian youth. Children were generally prized, looked after and generally treated well, irrespective of their social background, because nobody wanted to offend a child, only to have them become an Archmage and promptly roast the offending household alive. Likewise, because every child represented a chance for the nation to win the class lottery, harming them was equivalent to harming the property of the Crown by law; do it, and you earned a quick trip to the gallows.

This all suited me just fine, as it meant I had a week to get my bearings before the System decided my fate. Hopefully, I reflected as my headache returned with a vengeance, no longer held at bay by sheer force of will, I’d be well enough to walk by then.