This was a complete and utter nightmare. It was quite impossible to describe how she felt at this moment, a woman previously known as a ruthless and cold inquisitor, now reduced to a babbling brat with dirty underwear, unable to communicate with the people around her. Luckily, her saviour, the subtly gorgeous woman that was her new mother, Vera Highgrove, treated her situation with the soft touch and delicate care that only a mother could have. She stroked Elaria’s soft cheeks, and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, at which point she smelt the mess that had been made of the blanket. However, she didn’t get upset, instead simply laughing at her new daughter.
“Looks like she rushed out so quickly because she needed to empty her bowels,” she joked.
“She could’ve at least waited until she wasn’t wrapped up in my mother’s blanket,” groaned her husband, Darius, standing up to take Elaria from her arms.
He unwrapped the blanket, carefully depositing it outside the front door of the house, before taking Elaria over to a wooden bucket filled with water to wash her. Despite his large hands, calloused from years of working the fields, his touch was exceedingly gentle, and it didn’t take him long to have her completely clean. He dried her off with a ragged towel that looked like it had been handed down through generations of the family, threadbare and stained. The indignity of it all was rather hard to stomach, but perhaps this was some form of cosmic karma for her sins. There were worse things to be reborn into than poverty she supposed, at least she was still a human, as far as she could tell. After digging around inside a heavy looking wooden chest, Darius pulled out a clean blanket, wrapping her up tightly.
“Try not to ruin this one too, or we’ll have no family heirlooms left. I know they aren’t much in the way of inheritance, but these blankets have kept three generations of Highgroves warm through childhood,” he said, handing her back to her mother.
Well, at least my new father is funny. Seeing this young and happy couple fuss over her and flirt with each other was reminding her of her ex-husband and her divorce. Perhaps we could have been like this if we had a child. Then again, I don’t think bringing a child into an unhealthy home is a great idea, we would’ve ended up passing our worst traits on. The messages from Zel previously had prevented her from reacting to the situation, but it was really starting to sink in that she had died and left her old life behind. You didn’t even give me some time to grieve myself, you selfish bastard. Her friends, the few that stuck around, her family, her fans. She wouldn’t see any of them ever again. Would they miss her? Would they grieve? There were definitely plenty of people who would probably be celebrating her death, especially those celebrities who she’d ruined.
A tear trickled down her face, quickly wiped away by her doting mother before it could even reach her chin. One benefit of being a baby, she supposed, is that she could cry all she wanted without it being embarrassing. She had always hated crying in front of other people, since it would be interpreted as a weakness, and as a woman in a cold hearted industry, the last thing she could afford was to be seen as weak, as bleak as that was. After a cathartic release of her grief and sadness at the sudden loss of everything she had ever known and her terror of beginning a new life somewhere strange and unknown, she chose to embrace her situation and move forward.
The doctor, who she had mistaken for a giant upon arrival, had finished cleaning up the bed and surrounding area, and was preparing to depart and leave the happy couple alone with their child. “Did you decide on a name yet?” He asked.
Vera and Darius looked at each other briefly, a glint in their eyes as they replied in unison, “Elaria, after the Goddess of the Gentle Storm.”
“A beautiful choice,” he said, turning to look at Elaria herself, “I hope you grow up to be just as beautiful and awe inspiring as your namesake, little Elaria.”
He began to walk for the door, but Darius jumped from his chair, and rummaging through a small leather pouch hanging from his belt, he pulled five copper coins, thrusting them into the doctor’s hand. “It’s not a lot, but it’s all we have left after the last harvest, Warren,” he said.
Stolen story; please report.
The doctor, Warren, passed them back, grasping Darius’ hand while shaking his head. “You should keep them, raising a little girl can be expensive, after all. It’s enough for me to know that your daughter was born healthy and whole. Have a nice evening you two, I’ll see you around.”
“Thank you so much doctor, I really mean it,” said Vera as he walked out, tipping his hat to the both of them. She went back to gazing at her adorable baby girl with a glint in her eyes. What a precious little thing you are, my dear Elaria. To think that I could produce something so beautiful and pure. “We named you after the Goddess of the Gentle Storm, who provides protection and bountiful harvest to farmers and fisherfolk. It is my hope that just like a storm, you will grow up to be fierce and powerful, yet beautiful,” she explained.
It was a rather heartfelt sentiment, and it resonated with Elaria. Her mother couldn’t know it, but every word she said was being truly heard and understood by the little girl in her arms, and her wishes for the future would become the bedrock of the girl’s ambition for her second life.
The next few years passed by rather peacefully, with Elaria slowly accepting her new life. It was made easy by her wonderful parents, who despite their lack of wealth, more than made up for it with their overabundance of love and affection, never forgetting to keep her fed, warm and clothed. The village where she was born was known as Reissdown Village, a small settlement in the countryside of Erlich, a massive kingdom encompassing almost two million square kilometres of land in Teron, her new world. Reissdown Village was one of many similar villages and towns in the Faust Barony, and unfortunately for the many people living under the yolk of Baron Faust, he was a heartless tyrant, who extorted huge taxes from the masses and lived in luxury while many under his rule desperately struggled just to get through another day.
Despite that, the people of Reissdown were on the whole a warm and accepting crowd, and she made many friends among the local children. Her parents were well liked, especially her mother, who was adored almost universally by the whole village. One of her closest friends was a boy called Jacob, the son of the butcher. He was a rough and adventurous kid, who was always ready to explore and was constantly getting into trouble. When she was just three, she’d managed to get lost in the nearby forest, and while wandering through a mossy copse, he had dropped from a tree and scared the life out of her. That day was a fond memory for her. Despite being a three year old girl, because she had the mind of an adult, after the initial shock she had scolded him for his reckless behaviour. Having never been lambasted in such a manner by a little girl before, he was dumbfounded and actually burst out laughing.
His exact reply was, ‘To think that a little brat would stand up to me, I’m impressed! What’s your name, girl? From this day on you can follow me as your boss. With a capable partner like you, I’m sure we can terrorise the village like never before.’ She’d burst out laughing at his arrogance. He had been just six years old then, but she’d always had a soft spot for funny men. They’d been nigh inseparable ever since, and true to his word, he’d led her on many a rampage through Reissdown, and countless exciting adventures through the local forest and farmland.
One warm summer day, two weeks after her sixth birthday, she was returning to the village after delivering lunch to her father out in the fields, when she felt the ground rumbling gently and heard the sound of trumpets in the distance. Curious about the disturbance, she rushed back home, and found her mother sitting on a rocking chair by the door. The rumbling was louder now, and she looked to the source of the sound, where a group of ten horses was galloping down the road towards the village. The horse in the lead was being ridden by a young man in his twenties who was so fat that there was flesh spilling out from the gaps in his tailored armour. It looked as if an entire mine’s worth of iron had been used to cover him up. His face was pudgy and red, and his hair was cropped, but still greasy. He was accompanied by a thin, spectacled man, dressed in lavish blue robes, and eight armed knights, equipped with shining full plate and long swords hanging from the waist, the two at the front on either side of the boy carrying large banners, royal blue overlaid with golden trim and a golden eagle in the centre.
They came to a halt in the middle of the road once they’d reached the village, the dust billowing from the horse's hooves causing many of the villagers to cough and splutter. Most of the villagers present had gathered to hear what the commotion was, but seeing the group with banners raised, immediately got down onto their knees. One of the knights played a short fanfare on the trumpet, while the spectacled man took a scroll from his saddlebag and unfurled it. He proclaimed loudly, “In order to assist the ongoing war efforts on the northern border, Baron Faust has decreed that all citizens must contribute a tax. Each household must pay two bushels of wheat, and each village must offer ten cows, fifteen sheep and fifty chickens. Failure to pay this tax will be treated as treason, the punishment for which is death. The baron’s eldest son, Sir Faust, has received the honour of collecting this tax, and to thank the people for their contribution.”