“Happy Birthday” they all rang in unison. This part was surprisingly like back on earth. Gift giving and the celebration of survival. My mother Lisandra had gotten me a sewing kit for my travels. My father Garrick got me a sword. A real freaking sword, I hadn’t even gotten to have one of these at nineteen in my past life. While I was busy geeking out, its weight was stamped on the pommel as 1.1kg. I ran to find the measuring tape; the length was 91 centimeters. If I remembered correctly that would make it an arming sword. I tried strapping the sheath on, it even came with an embroidered leather belt about my small size. I ran outside and gave a few experimental swings with my sword while my siblings all looked on in fascination.

“Ready to spar?” my father questioned.

“I am” I said with intensity. My training blade had been heavier than this new sword and I thought perhaps with my size and speed I could score a hit on my father.

Ten minutes of sword forms for every time my father scored a blow or knocked away my sword. That’s got to be three whole days as once I was wielding a real weapon my father was no longer so hesitant to train me. He was brutal in his efficiency. I no longer felt like some wise sword master but the novice I truly was. All of my siblings had given up on watching us and now that we were alone my father offered me some advice.

“Andrew you have a strong heart boy, don’t let others use you for their ends. Pick a goal and don’t let your sympathy be your undoing.” My father said.

“Thank you, father.” I gushed still excited about the sword and not really paying his advice any mind. My father looked as if he wanted to say more but I don’t know what he wanted to say.

“Now go and get washed up, you leave tomorrow and your mother is throwing you a feast to celebrate.” Said my father Garrick with a solemn expression I couldn’t place on his face.

I ran back to our now three-bedroom cabin. The smells were irresistible. Mother shoed everyone away from the kitchen. I went to the rain barrel and poured some into a smaller basin than began the monotonous process of sponge bathing with cold water on a cold day.

I ran back in too the fire in the fireplace which had a large pot over it and retreated to warm myself. It was then that it really sank in which kind of world I was living in. I might have to use this sword to defend myself or even attack monsters or people to defend others. I might die again. Although dying last time hadn’t been anything to write home about.

I just don’t remember there being a frost warning the night I supposedly died of freezing. I was wearing a pretty thick jacket. Did perhaps this goddess bring me here from Earth with ulterior motive. As if suspecting he was taken against his will were the trigger for dinner his mother called out loudly.

Dinner was something to write home about. I would to, throughout my travels. I’d write home to my parents and tell them about what I had seen and done and what I was eating. But this dinner. It was special. My mother made my three favorite foods. Wontons stuffed with nenk meat, what basically amounts to fried chicken strips and sprug tail chili.

There wasn’t much talking over dinner as basically everyone was stuffing their faces. After dinner each of my siblings took a few minutes to explain why they would miss me. It was very sweet and apparently just something they did on this world. At the end of it all it was my turn and it was easy for me to take longer than the other had with just my simple observations about our daily lives. How I would continue to miss them long after I was gone.

The next morning, I grabbed my backpack with my extra clothes, rope, flint, pillow, blanket and bedroll. My parents had insisted having a giant fluffy pillow was a luxury and unnecessary at that. I still strapped it atop my backpack and prayed it wouldn’t get too dirty. My mother came into town with me to drop me off at the market square where the caravan would be loading up from.

I hadn’t anticipated loading all of the wagons but it was explained too me I was either a guard or a worker. I wasn’t old enough to be a guard yet, but I would try that route next trip if I could. Pretty much everything that could be sold in a week was loaded onto wagons some pulled by horses, others pulled by oxen and even one pulled by a big fat sprug. The sprug was blue and black and four meters long from nose to tail. The reptilian beast of burden looked up for the task.

The sprug’s wagon would be filled with heavy items like an anvil, which I was unable to help load, even with two of us, there was no budging it. Ultimately the blacksmith and two of his apprentices loaded it onto the cart. Big lads all of them. I would be sleeping in a cart near the middle, but I got a sense that middle of the pack was relative when we circled the wagons each night.

I learned to feint from one of the guards. That means to pretend attack at an angle that might be awkward to defend from to put your opponent off balance only to really attack from an all together different angle. Simply put, a deceptive pretend blow or movement.

I learned to sleep under the wagon incase of rain. I learned how to cook over a fire, there was plenty of food to eat, you just needed to be a bit imaginative about how you wanted it to resemble food after heating on a stone next too the fire. The journey was boring really. Six guards roamed the caravan on horses, alert against any sign of attack.

One of the wagon drovers let me try some honey mead and I don’t recall much of the third night. I got a proper respect for alcohol tolerance at my age and body mass. I wouldn’t be doing that again any time soon. On the fourth day we crossed paths with a small band of miners headed into the mountains to strike it rich. They great fully bought a large number of provisions and sundries at prices unheard of in whatever city they had come from.

On the fifth day we passed through a small village not unlike mine although they had docks and a riverway. We stopped only for a few hours for trades to be made, I was called on to cart things through the street following a gaggle of other apprentices wielding handcarts.

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I met a few kids my age and learned about their various professions while we mostly just tried to stay out of view of the adults. I could hear them call for us anyways, I was forced to part ways just as the blacksmith’s apprentice was recalling how all he does is haul charcoal, load charcoal and haul on the bellows. I didn’t lament his fate as my own so I scurried off with my handcart in tow.

Day six was rain and a mathematics lesson for all the apprentices from a priestess who had joined the caravan at Renault village. When it became apparent that Andrew knew multiplication and could perform geometry and other basic equations he was hailed as prodigy. Perhaps letting on so much of his past life was a poor idea, but apparently there was always room from him with the church of the divine lady.

Day seven we arrived at the royal capital. It was massive, easily as big as Rome or any other ancient city. Magic apparently allowed for skyscrapers in odd shapes. On oblong building was made entirely of black glass. It boggled the mind as the streets often passed under the buildings above. New York had nothing on Valorium Central. Andrew for the first time saw members of the myriad races he had expected to see back at his home town. Orcs, half orcs, Elves (he was pretty sure), a singular dwarf beating the tar out of a piece of glowing metal. Screaming AHHHH-AH-AHH-AH as he worked.

Valorium had smells that could put mom’s cooking to rest. The very first thing he noticed was the lack of sanitation problems evident in cities; instead, there were public street sweepers. People bustled through some intersections like you’d expect there to be a crosswalk and a build up of time for that many people to amass but no, there were just that many people.

Andrew helped unload the caravan for about six hours before they finished. It was getting late and they offered for Andrew to take up a bunk in the building behind the trade hall. Andrew found dinner was palatable compared to his own cooking but nothing like the sights and smells he had passed as the traversed the city atop the wagon.

Andrew resolved to be wealthy one day that he might peruse the cities opulence. Then Andrew found rest. Breakfast wasn’t much different than dinner, same eggs and meat just cooked and served differently. This time boiled and pan fried respectively, and on a plate rather than a bowl. It was inconsequential at best, but he thanked the cook and headed to the caravan master to get directions. Sword at his belt and backpack on his back he made his way to the north quarter of the city where he had to beg a guard for directions. He soon found veterans dormitory for the criminally insane, and right behind that was the apartment build I was looking for.

Making my way to the third floor and knocking politely on the door, I waited. I waited some more. I knocked again but louder this time and I was answered by a servant? Guest? Unsure I asked “Is Master Anstrom available.”

“He is not to be disturbed during business hours by an urchin boy.” The bald young woman in white and red robes said to me.

“I have a letter of introduction.” I offered a bit appalled at this treatment.

“So you do, so you do, I guess I’ll take it.” Said the bald twelve or maybe thirteen-year-old sweetly and suddenly.

“My letter is for master Anstrom, not his…” I trailed off trying not to be insulting.

“I am his servant and I will happy to convey the letter if you will but wait outside.” She said.

So the strange young woman took my letter and closed the door. I waited, and waited a while longer. Just bordering the edge of my patience, the door opened and an older man with whiskers and brown waistcoat was sudden studying me very intently.

“Boy, what is your name.” The older man asked me in an impatient tone.

“Andrew Headguard.” I answered earnestly.

“Come inside and we will test your magical aptitude. I make no promises, if you are unfit you will quickly find your way out.” Said Master Anstrom

“Ok” I said and proceeded to follow him through an apartment that took up the whole of the third floor of a rather large building. They went through a sitting area into what could only be described as a magical workshop. He led me to a large glass ball sitting atop a small square table.

“This is a scrying glass; it will most easily tell me if you possess the talent to use sorcery or one of the other arcane forces.” Master Anstrom said with a gesture towards the crystalline orb.

“Ok what do I do.” I asked.

“First just touch it.” He said.

I did. The orb turned pink and then glowed softly white. I wasn’t sure what form of response this was, I looked to master Anstrom who was nodding satisfied.

“It looks like you can use sorcery, now to see if you can wield the other six powers.”

I nodded sheepishly, I was glad that I’d found a master to teach me after all.

“This next time imagine in the crystal ball the idea of what your strengths are. The ball will interpret them into a contextual sheet that will let us see your strong suits.” Master Anstrom instructed.

I Held my hands on either side of the ball as indicated and will my strengths to be displayed before us. At first nothing happened, I closed my eyes and willed it to happen, and when I opened my eyes it displayed a glowing blue character sheet.

Magical Propensity : Divine, Magus, Wizard, Magi, Mage, Sorcerer, Wild, Green

“Boy you best not be fooling with me, show me the real sheet.” Master Anstrom said with a glare.

“Sir that is the only thing I think I understand how to display.” I answered sheepishly.

“Boy if you can cast divine magic then, look at me back real quick.” Master Anstrom said turning and pulling up his shirt revealing a horrible mess of scars.

“How do I cast it?” Andrew was horrified at the wounds but also trepidatious at the at the thought to use his divine power he’d so easily forgotten about.

“Put your Hands on my back and say Cure Wound.” Master Anstrom said.

As Andrew uttered the words “Cure Wound” he felt him self going faint for a moment as if he drained some vital energy beyond its limit. Andrew’s hands glowed with light and Master Anstrom’s scars faded to wispy pink marks.

Dropping his shirt, Master Anstrom indicated for Andrew to sit back down. “Don’t tell anyone you can do this, for any reason.” He said.

“I won’t, but you have to tell me what all those different magical words were.” Andrew offered.

“Divine magic is the rarest gift to mortals, to cast those spells usually you must pray to certain deities or using a certain religious institution’s instructions gain the spells only for limited times. That you can freely cast divine magic heralds you as the champion of a great and powerful god.” Anstrom began but sort of trailed off looking at me with a puzzled expression.

“Yeah, the goddess Lyddya made me one of her champions.” I answered.

“The world maker, truly the world maker’s gift?” Anstrom asked me.

“What does that mean, she never mentioned the world maker’s gift.” I was perplexed as I answered

“Lyddya created this world. Thus she is known as the world maker. Her gift was to name you her champion.” The old master said.

“Ok so what of the rest of it.” Andrew asked impatiently

“Magus can memorize spells, Wizard write new spells, Magi can cast spells from scrolls, Mage can write new scrolls, Sorcerer means can wield magic, Wild magic users are among the most dangerous as it means they can wield raw natural magic, Green I don’t even know.” Anstrom finished speaking winded

“So I take it you will have a lot to teach me.” I asked him

“You don’t know the half of it.” Anstrom replied.