Amidst the unfolding tumult, a tidal wave of memories crashed into David's consciousness. The onslaught of pain was fierce, a fleeting but searing ordeal that subsided before a single scream could pierce the air. Gradually, these waves of anguish receded, leaving behind a residue of poignant sensation. David's mind became a canvas, painted with the image of a youthful 11-year-old boy. As he navigated through these vivid memories, he was jolted by an overwhelming incredulity.
In a twist of fate, David found himself reincarnated as Edward, a figure enveloped in the shadows of the Middle Ages—a destiny burdened with misfortune and veiled significance. Among the myriad Edwards of the era, he was a lesser-known presence, yet his narrative was as richly intricate as any. This Edward, hailing from the noble lineage of Platagenets, held a unique position as the sole son of Prince Thomas, the 1st Earl of Norfolk, and as the grandson of the late King Edward I—an ancestry laden with historical weight.
As David traversed the tapestry of Edward's life, he confronted a disconcerting reality. The very boy he had pondered while embarking on his fateful journey had become his host in this new existence—an existence intertwined with the vehicle of mortality. Gazing upon the mirror of Edward's form, alarmingly frail and unmistakably youthful, David's insights grew sharper. With a determined step, he ventured from his bed towards an awaiting basin of water, a vessel brought by an enigmatic maid, its purpose shrouded in mystery.
As his head inclined over the basin, a clear reflection stared back at him—an image defined by raven locks cascading to mid-length and azure eyes that offered a striking contrast. A strong jawline defied the conventional notion of European nobility characterized by weaker features. Amidst these observations, an unspoken anticipation brewed, envisioning a future where his looks would mature into handsomeness. Such prospects, however, remained veiled in the sands of time.
Amidst these musings, the echo of approaching footsteps reached David's ears with an urgency that quickened his pulse. The door to his chamber, a space surpassing the standards of an average nobleman, beckoned his attention. Standing at an impressive ten feet in height, the room encompassed ample area—a realm dominated by a king-sized bed, a solitary round table poised for solitary repasts, a wardrobe for his belongings, and a collection of artworks that would have passed as unremarkable by modern standards.
The bed itself boasted opulence, adorned with a mattress of feather and layered with fur and substantial coverings, designed to ward off the chill even during the warmest months. David's keen observation extended to the coat of arms that graced various corners of the room—a familiar emblem belonging to the illustrious Plantagenet lineage, a testament to his noble heritage.
Yet, before his contemplations could fully unfold, the door swung open with a flourish. The momentum of his thoughts was abruptly halted as his wavering mind refocused on the intrusion, the threshold now breached by an unseen force.
"Edward!" bellowed a towering man, a figure easily measuring around 6 feet, 1 or 2 inches. His attire, a round-necked shirt that reached the hips, secured by braies at the waist, was layered with a knee-length tunic. Adhering to the understated fashion of 14th-century England, the garments bore minimal adornment. Short black hair adorned his head, mirroring Edward's own, while a mid-length beard added to his austere countenance. Piecing together these visual cues, David—now assuming the mantle of 'Edward'—discerned that this was none other than his father, Earl Thomas of Norfolk, a pivotal figure in the realm as the prince of England and one of the king's principal advisors.
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"Yes, Father," Edward replied, a measured response to his father's call.
Thomas closed the distance with swift steps, his eyes appraising his son from head to toe, a mixture of concern and relief etched across his features. "A-Are you alright?" he inquired, his voice trembling with a blend of worry and relief.
"My body appears to be intact, as far as I can discern," Edward replied, his tone laced with uncertainty.
A wave of gratitude flowed through Thomas's words. "Praise the lord. Do you require anything?"
"Rest would serve me well, and perhaps a selection of books to occupy my time," Edward requested.
"Very well. I shall instruct the librarian to attend to your needs. And ensure you join me for dinner tonight," Thomas directed.
As Thomas exited the room, Edward was taken aback. The reputation of Thomas's Plantagenet temper preceded him, yet this encounter revealed a previously unseen facet—a tenderness reserved for his only son.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Edward tried to remember details about the man now considered his father and his own past. He knew that Thomas held an important position called Earl Marshal, which was given to powerful Earls. But their lives were quite different. His own history was a puzzle—he was known as Edward of Norfolk and was supposed to die in 1334, for reasons nobody understood.
Feeling curious, Edward got up and searched for a date somewhere. He didn't find any. So, he went to the hallway and asked a servant, "Hey, what's the date today?"
The servant replied, "It's the 10th of August, 1334, since the time Jesus was born, milord."
Edward was shocked. "Yesterday was supposed to be August 9th," he thought. "The day young Edward was supposed to die. But here I am, alive." He closed the door and went back to his room, deep in thought. He wondered why he ended up in a child's body. He considered different reasons, but none made sense. He realized that Hindus and Buddhists might have been right about reincarnation or rebirth. Whatever it was called, it wasn't helping him understand his situation.
A knock sounded at the door, followed by a voice, "Assistant Librarian, milord."
"Please, come in," Edward replied.
A young man with brown hair entered and settled onto a chair near the table. "Sir Librarian sent me to jot down your book requests," he explained.
"Of course. I'd like books about English History, Peerage, Plantagenets, and Economy," Edward requested.
With quick strokes of his quill, the man transcribed the demands onto a piece of paper and departed promptly. Not long after, a collection of books arrived in Edward's chamber. He delved into reading, a habit carried over from his previous life, dedicating five hours to the pursuit of knowledge.
From the pages, Edward absorbed a panorama of insights. First and foremost, he realized he lived in a time of deceptive stability. While the English throne appeared secure on paper, chaos pervaded the realm. The Queen Mother, Isabella of France, had orchestrated a rebellion against her husband, Edward II, who happened to be Edward's uncle. Roger Mortimer, Isabella's lover, and his own father, Earl Thomas, lent their support to the uprising. In 1327, the rebellion succeeded, leading to Edward II's dethronement and subsequent execution. His cousin, Edward III, was crowned king, yet Isabella and Roger effectively ruled in his name as regents for three years. In the mix, Edward himself was engaged to Roger's daughter, Beatrice Mortimer, four years his senior.
The year 1330 marked a pivotal shift, as a successful coup d'état toppled Roger's regency. Edward III consolidated his authority and established an advisory council to placate the influential earls. Edward's father was a member, though the king often favored other advisors for reasons that were apparent. The kingdom now stood amidst a web of rival claimants to the throne—Princess Joan, Princess Eleanor, Earl Thomas, Edward himself, Earl John, and many more. Chaos seemed inevitable.
Edward also brushed up on his understanding of the prevailing peerage structure in England: King > Earl > Baron > Knights. Notably absent were titles like Duke, Marquess, or Viscount. Earls held the mantle of power at the moment.
As the dinner hour drew near, Edward tidied his table, forming a stack of books for retrieval by a servant. He exited the room and made his way to the hall, where a long table was set for the family's evening repast. Surveying the scene, he noted three individuals seated along the sides and, in the central position, a man he recognized as Thomas—his father and the head of the manor.