Merovic now Eight years old, sat at a lectern looking over his pile of notes on 20 Tables of Rumelian Law and the commentaries of Rumelian tribal courts. “Rumelian is an analog of Latin, its similar for the most part. Hellekois is basically Greek. Eaygar is a combination of Phoenician and Egyptian glyphs, not my strongest subjects. Lastly, Zicarath is a Persian language, the strange squiggly lines seem to be good indicator in that direction. I can’t say that I mastered how to read the Eaygar and Zicarath scripts, but I got the bare bones basics down. Overall. I can say that I lucked out because I can already read and write in passable Latin and Koine Greek, so Hellekois and Rumelian isn’t a problem. It’s an issue, but not an issue, that the language of the Gauntal lacks a written script.
All that cult hopping, and church shopping did me no favors in my past life, but in my current life those experiences and god-tier trivia pursuit knowledge on languages will definitely be put to good use.”
Merovic glanced at his draft of the world map and summarized what he knew: “Its like I am looking at strange version of Earth at the end of classical antiquity. We have a version of Rome in the form of the Rumelian Empire; Which dominates the Mesomare this worlds version of the Mediterranean. The Empire can be divided into the heartlands on the western side, the Hellekoi region on the eastern side, and the south is the Eaygitus region. The largest neighbor south of the empire is the Kingdom of the Wendalii, who carved out a piece of the Empire to found their kingdom. Beyond the Wendalii, no other state exists it is more like a smattering of dozens of independent tribes scattered all along the southern boarders.”
“Beyond Hellakoi in farthest east is the Zazaran Empire, a land dominated by mountains and rivers. The far west the kingdoms of Wergoss, Subarii, and Suegnum. In the north are your run of the mill barbarians. There are no identifiable independent states on the Rumelian maps, but the main nations listed are: The Goss, Tutonians, Hussacks, and the Danr which are subdivided into a bunch of different tribes.”
“My home kingdom is to the northwest of the Rumelian Heartlands, its nestled firmly in the region known as Gauntal, its both the name of the people and the land so its easy to remember. The kingdom is dominated by my tribe the Salii; the Auserasii and Rudarii exist as semi-integrated vassals within the kingdom. Our eastern neighbors are the Goss and Tutonians, south is the Empire; west is the Amoracii, and Briannii peoples. Lastly northeast is the nation of the Danr and northeast is the Avalonians.”
Merovic stood up, and stretched, while he organized his thoughts. “Typically, a noble child will start their apprenticeship to the court as a page or attendant at the age of seven. Thankfully, with my Church tutors running interference, I can push off the lacky page work until I’m ten. The caveat being that I can write a little bit about Rumelian Law and on Church Doctrine. I need to prove that my unconventional education is beneficial to the court. By the time I am ready to officially do my apprenticeship, I should know more about law and stewardship than the current senior court officials.” Merovic smiled at himself, the utility of his past-life knowledge, revealed itself as he learned more about his new world.
Merovic’s ruminations were interrupted by the sound of rushed footsteps. In moments a small crowd of his tutors greeted him. “Elder Auedin, Father Otto, and Teacher Arslan to what; do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Elder Auedin’s hoarse voice made itself apparent: “Young master Merovic, I know that you have made your opinion known that you do not wish to bother with the other children of your age. However, I and the other tutors believe that such a mindset will only hinder your ability to socialize with other people and limit your future growth.”
Merovic paused and considered his answer: “Perhaps such a fear goes unfounded, do I not speak and converse with you, my teachers? Has not my ability to socialize already been proven by past words and acts? Is it not a hasty assumption on your part; to conclude the absence of childish socializing, as the evidence of the absence of social skills? To wit: I have no need to polish my diction or discourse. What I currently have need of is more time to study”.
If Merovic was being honest; he didn’t need to keep reading so much, but he felt incredibly awkward pretending to act like a child: Frankly, he wasn’t doing a good job of pretending to be one in the first place. He did not have kids in his past life, and he did not babysit other people’s children. He was an old man in a boy’s body; hanging out with kids made him feel like a creeper.
“See that’s the problem young master, you spend too much time reading that you haven’t learned how to socialize with your peers. In fact, the way you speak makes you unapproachable to other people. As your tutors, we love your company. However, talking to old men will not help you in developing the necessary skills to do the most import aspect of your future responsibilities. Courtship is not a thing that can be learned in ancient texts, while chastity is certainly virtuous; it is not a noble’s lot in life to not have children. Unless… well… you are rather astute, perhaps the young master would like to join the priesthood. I am certain Father Otto would put in a good word for you at a male only covenant.”
Merovic paled at the thought of becoming a priest or mendicant monk. While his carnal desires did dimmish in his past life as an older man, and as a child his physique has not developed enough for those urges. The thought of being a perma-virgin in his new life was almost too much to bear. He really wanted to keep the hope alive of being a future daddy.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Auedin seized the moment of Merovic weakness; “I have already spoken to your parents, and they have given their agreement to have you attend the young lady Matilde’s tenth birthday party. You will be in attendance.” Auedin stared gloatingly at Merovic, pleased at pulling the rug from his over clever pupil.
“Auedin, I can only acquiesce to your sagacious foresight. When will the event be held?” “Young master, it will be held a week from today”. Subdued, Merovic thanked his tutors and walked around the castle; to consider the important philosophical question: Can a child be a pedophile? Conversely, if one corpse robbed the grave of another corpse; for the purposes of a certain carnal activity: Would it be considered necrophilia? If a man identifies as a squirrel and is legally identified as same such creature; deciding to procreate with another squirrel: Would it be considered an act of ordinal intercourse or bestiality?
With no answers in sight, to his aforementioned inquiries, Merovic put away such thoughts; paid a visit to the local vǫlur in the outskirts of the capital. Vǫlur Freya’s home was not much different from the surrounding peasant houses. It was a combination of clay bricks, natural stones, straw, and wood. There was an inconspicuous shack on a corner of her property, and It was connected to one of the small streams that forked off the Rundari river and she shared a small watermill with some of her neighbors. Overall, the house had a very quant feel to it.
Merovic rigorously knocked on the door, in a manner only a child could get away with. “Man-child stop your mischief.” Merovic nearly jumped in fright at the sound of a middle-aged woman’s voice behind him. Vǫlur Freya was a curvy woman; whom aged rather well, her wrinkles seemed to enhance rather than mar her natural feminine beauty.
Freya was introduced to Merovic on his fifth birthday. All of notables of the capital were invited to the event; and it served as forum for the various local powers to plan and partner up on future ventures. It might seem odd at a glance, for a child’s birthday party to serve such a function, but ancient peoples tended to mix business with pleasure. Of all the guests, only Freya genuinely interacted with little Merovic. Her eyes seemed to see the twisted nature of his being. Merovic didn’t know if she really understood his strange situation, or if she was just unusually perceptive; either way, she never treated him as a child.
“Fair Freya, how has the pet project progressed?” Freya scrunched up her nose “the hay and straw has shrunk by a third of its original size.” “That’s great news do you mind showing me?” Merovic was led to a pair of large clay jars next to a shed nearby. He looked under the lid of the jars and examined the decomposing plant matter inside. “Its progressing nicely Freya, in three more months the product will be complete.” “Lil ‘lord, how did you come up with such a strange idea, let alone convince your father to accept such an idea as a form of tax?” Merovic recited his long-prepared excuse: “Well Freya, I came upon an interesting Rumelian law known as the Urine Tax. I wondered why such a strange tax would be necessary; from there I discovered that the Eaygar peoples utilize their urine to make a potent fertilizer, this fertilizer is one of elemental factors behind their bountiful harvests. The project that we have been working on is to recreate this miraculous “black soil”.
For Merovic, the nitrified soil was just a means to an end. His primary goal was for a consistent supply of saltpeter. Saltpeter could be utilized in food preservation, the creation of ice, glass-making, coloring, metal treatment, fertilizer, and in the production of primitive gunpowder. It would be a game-changer, in more than one way, to have such a resource on hand. The creation of nitrified soil would both camouflage and act as the raw materials in the refinement of saltpeter. For purposes of self-preservation, he decided to keep the real reason for his project under wraps, until he was in a better position to protect himself and his investment. In his old life as Henry he suffered no shortage of pointless backstabs because of good ideas with bad timing.
Freya turned to face Merovic; “well, lil’ lord, have you come to see me for any other reason than to gawk at rotting grass?” “hmmm, I do have another purpose for this visit, outside the original scope of the project. ahem would you consider teaching me a bit about your shamanic magics?” Freya raised an eyebrow; “little lord, are you not a member of the church? I thought your church prohibits the practice of the old magics. The Salveux family represents the church in our tribe, and you could get into some trouble for dabbling into such things.
Merovic was simply too tempted with the idea of seeing real magic; then to worry about evanescent matters of the soul. Magic in the old world was a glorified form of hypnotism and a cult of self-actualization, truly boring stuff: Magic in the new world, however, was rumored to be more tangible and bit more impressive. During his readings, he found texts on Rumelian campaigns that centered around magic and magical conflicts. The commentaries and testimonials were too numerous to simply be flights of fancy. He was filled with a burning desire to act out some truly childish Harry Potter fantasies; or in the absence of magic, to prepare himself to be a little more cynical when reading the non-fiction books of this world.
“Freya, I want to learn more about the ways and traditions of our ancestors. It would help prevent avoidable problems with church and the conservative members of the tribes. Would you kindly consider my request?” The old Vǫlur pondered the issue: “lil’ lord let’s say that I will consider the request when you get older; and are able to respond to the issue that you discussed. Would that satisfy you?” Disappointedly, Merovic agreed with the postponement of the request. They shared a small pot of herbal tea, and some small talk; Merovic then returned home to continue studying, mentally preparing himself for a children’s birthday party.