Chapter One: Hello, My Name is...
First segment of the second rotation, Cycle 1700 under Frician Rule.
Walking down the street towards my home, I checked my surroundings.
Or, should I say, I would have. Sadly, the only thing there is to see on this street is trash, followed by, well, more trash. Trash comes in many forms you know?
Garbage, buildings… people.
It really is quite an eyesore seeing such a thing everyday; however, I don’t have much of a choice.
Now before I continue, I should introduce myself.
My name is Lewis Wulf, I’m physically six years old, and I’m a reincarnated human. That’s my given name and age in the world I now live in, and don’t worry about my previous name, it’s not important.
I live in the outer ward of Akkad in a nation called Fricia with my two parents, Ella and Gerald, and my younger sister, Luna. We’re a commoner family, though in terms of rank we’d be considered to be in the lowest ranks amongst commoners, which means, we’re dirt poor. Hence, we live in an area that reflects our families position.
Why are we so poor you may wonder? Well I’ll explain. My parents aren’t unintelligent, or unmotivated. Infact, my parents are pretty amazing from what I’ve seen of them.
So why would my family with two motivated and intelligent parents be in such a poor position?
One word.
Magic.
And no, I do not mean my family went poof and ended up where we are.
This world can be manipulated by everyone to a varying degree, and the magnitude at which a person can do this defines their rank. Thus, my family who sits at rock bottom is described as having little to no ability to force their ideas onto the world.
It’s a very archaic system, and it’s pretty much impossible for a person to increase their inborn potential at using magic. As a result, moving up the ranks rarely happens because magical potential is carried down bloodlines, and thus the only way to raise your families potential for magic is to join another family of greater magical potential, which never happens.
That should explain who I am, and why I’m walking down a street which should feel grateful I even call it a street. Honestly, it’s really just a clearing in the mess that is the outer ward.
Since in my previous life I lived without magic, I don’t feel like I’m missing anything as a person. Albeit, the same cannot be said for those around me who walk with their shoulders slouched and heads down.
Are they depressed? I’m fairly sure they are, however none of them realise it. I know what it feels like to be depressed. It sucks, and it’s one of the reasons I ended up here.
I’m not here to complain about my new life though. I’m here to live it. Thus I’ll just keep my head up, my back straight, and keep walking. What can I do for them anyway?
Arriving at my family's home, and walking through the door which is barely holding itself up, I spot a woman with light auburn hair and brown eyes sitting in front of a table with another figure I can’t recognise.
“Hi Mum,” I said, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table.
“Have a good day?” said Ella, turning her head to flash me a smile.
Sitting across from the previously unknown person, I can tell that it’s a man, and from his barely audible wincing, I can tell my mother is working.
“Yeh, a bit tired though,” I said.
My mother’s a herbalist, and specialises in using roots, leaves, and any other flora you can think of to help heal people in the outer ward. Basically, she’s a very resourceful doctor.
Very convenient since her partner, who is naturally my dad, is a lumberjack. He often comes home with blistered hands, and due to the area he works in, can grab supplies for Ella. My mum heals him, and he helps give her the means to do it.
“I’ll cook something once I’m done Lewis, and your dad should be home soon as well,” said Ella.
Nodding my head, I reply.
“Cool, thanks Mum.”
Assuming my mum takes 30 minutes to finish at most, and another 30 minutes to cook and serve up dinner, I have an hour to myself. I guess I’ll wander around the area a bit.
I don’t want to travel too far away from home since the sun’s going down, and I don’t want to be outside in the dark on my own. It’s not that I fear the dark, but it’s that when the sun goes down the crime rate goes up.
Truth be told, I like the dark. However, a defenseless young boy on his own in the dark is only begging for something to happen.
It’s best I avoid wandering too far.
My dad will be returning from work soon, so I decide to head to the station he’ll arrive at. It’s not too far away from my home, and if I can stay with the crowd of people returning from work I’ll be safe.
The pathway to the station my dad arrives at is similar to the the one I use to return home, trashy, and it’s not a direct route either. Unless I want to barge through people's doors though, it’s the only way there.
Walking along the pathway which turns left and right every twenty metres or so, I arrive at the station, and take a seat on a worn concrete cast block beside the road. As I was sitting, I watched the numerous vehicles travelling back and forth on the road, and my lips curled up into a smile. The sight, no matter how many times I see it, it never ceases to amaze me.
People riding on horses were trotting in and out of the city beside carriages moving goods into the outer ward, however, this isn’t what leaves me amazed everytime I come here. What leaves me amazed is how alongside this medieval style of travel is something that simply looks out of place.
Vehicles with tinted glass windows, rubber tires, and metal framework moved past the horses and carriages at a speed insurmountable to those they left behind.
It makes me feel weird and amazed. The fact something so modern can be alongside horses and carriages in an area stuck in an age just as old as them, and be considered normal… I just can’t get used to.
In this world those without an aptitude for magic are left behind, whilst those with an aptitude monopolize it. The cars they drive, their cities, and their homes, all a result of magic.
It’s no wonder why no one tries to overthrow such a system. It’d be similar to throwing dirt at a tank and wondering why the occupants aren’t dead, it’s counter intuitive, and only serves to annoy the people already oppressing you.
As the sky turned scarlet, and the number of vehicles became scarce, I saw no signs of my dad anywhere. I continued to flick my head left and right, but before I knew it the stars were twinkling in the sky, and only moonlight remained, dimly illuminating the area with an ominous veil.
Standing up from my seated position, I turned around and started to head home. Even in the cover of darkness, I can navigate this area with ease, so getting back won’t be a problem.
In the congested slum like maze that is the outer ward, I increase my pace. The air feels cold against my skin, and I don’t want to get sick. However, the lack of any people on the route I take makes moving quickly easy, and around twenty minutes later I find myself only a couple hundred metres from my home.
Turning one of the last corners to my home, I increase my pace once again. The night has gotten considerably darker, and I can faintly see the form of something scurrying in the shadows, as it flickers in and out of my peripheral vision. Yet, every time I try to whip my head to the side and catch whatever’s moving, I’m left with an eerie silence as I stare into darkness.
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Chastising myself for being out at this time, I increase my pace yet again to a light jog. The sound of me breathing is all I can hear, and I can feel my heart beating in my chest. I’m definitely being followed.
My sudden change to a light jog seems to spur my pursuer though, and soon enough I can also discern the sound of someone else's footsteps over my own breathing. Whoever they are, they’ve given up trying to be stealthy.
“Oi!” shouts a voice behind me in hopes I’ll stop in surprise.
But it doesn’t work, I’ve already broken into a fully fledged sprint hoping to lose my pursuer in the maze around us. I can’t return home, I already know that. If I do they’ll find out where I live, which includes where my family lives. I don’t want my family getting attacked.
These kinds of attacks happen a lot in the outer ward, but it’s simply so common no one talks about it. I never thought I’d be one of the people caught in such a situation though.
Continuing to run, my efforts to lose my pursuer seem to be vain. No matter how many random turns I take they follow after me, and the sound of their footsteps is only getting louder by the second.
“Oi cut em off!” shouts my pursuer, but not to me this time.
Taking note of the fact there must be more than one pursuer, I keep running, and get a glimpse of the silhouette of someone else running on the rooftops. That must be how they’re able to follow me so well.
Running as fast as my legs can propel me, the gap between me and the pursuer on the ground is barely being maintained. I can tell that even with adrenaline coursing through me, I won’t be able to keep this up for long.
To make it worse, the person running on the rooftops doesn’t have to worry about following the pathways like I do, thus they’re able to close the gap.
With a thud the person jumps down in front of me, and whether or not this is what they intended, my body crashes into theirs as I’m unable to stop in time. The two of us hit the ground with me lying on top of them, and still in a daze from hitting their head on the ground, I get back up and start running again.
Not for long though. Only a few seconds after I’ve gotten up I’m tackled to the ground from behind, and land headfirst into the ground.
“Gotcha you little punk, hehehe,” said a masculine voice in between breaths.
I can feel something leaking from my nose as my pursuer pushes me against the ground, and my head hurts, however there is no pain. The adrenaline in me is still doing its job.
“Oi, what should we do with him?” said the same voice as before.
“Take him back, and don’t damage the goods, he seems pretty fit so he’ll fetch us a good sum,” said another masculine voice.
Traffickers. They’ll sell me to some slave master to work till I die, or a pervert for their own pleasure. I don’t know which is worse, but I know that if I don’t escape both of them would be worse than death.
“Help!” I said, trying to shout as loud as I could.
It was a futile attempt though as I learnt my throat hurt a lot more than I realised, and thus my voice came out as a croaky and barely audible whisper. Even if I had managed to shout no one would have come. The screaming and shouting of people can be heard every night, and no one takes action. Unless you want to become a target you look away and mind your own business.
The only person who is going to help me here is myself.
I can’t fight them, not physically at least. Can I use magic? Yes and no. Everyone can use magic, but I’ve never tried to before. Like most people in the outer district I’m born from two parents with rock bottom magic potential, and thus I’m guaranteed to be the same as them.
Why have I never checked though? Because it could kill me. I don’t know the specifics of how magic in this world works, but the warnings from my parents and everyone I’ve ever asked are all the same: it’s dangerous, and especially for people with rock bottom potential. Trying to force a phenomenon in the world, no matter how small is practically guaranteed to kill me.
I’ve seen a few people able to use a small amount of magic in the outer ward, things such as igniting a thin twig, or making a spinning top spin. However, even they don’t try to do anything more then that. Fainting, losing memories, going into a coma, I’ve heard many stories of people who push themselves too far, but they all converge on the same idea: if you go too far, you will die.
Not that it helps, but my parents can’t even make a spinning top spin. However, I’ll need to do something a lot bigger than that if I want to survive. Yes, this is a matter of survival. I’d rather die knowing I tried, then live a life in despair.
Whilst I was in thought my pursuers had picked me up, and one of them was carrying me over their shoulder as they moved silently.
I don’t know where I am as all I can see is the ground, however the sound of them opening a door, and the change to a wooden floor in my vision signals they’ve arrived at their destination.
I can hear voices chatting around me as my captor drops me on the floor, and looking around I can see I’m in a medium sized room. Various tables with men sitting on chairs around them were in the room, and they each took a look at me before returning to their chatter.
“You got another one eh Bryce?” said one of the men.
“We got another one,” said the captor who didn’t carry me here, emphasising the we. “If I wasn’t there Bryce would’ve lost the kid.”
“Whatever, just lock it up in the basement,” said the man who’d started the conversation.
Great, it’s gone from trying to escape from two men in the dark, to trying to escape from a lit up room full of men. Not to mention, they don’t even consider me a person which speaks wonders about what they’re going to do with me.
If I let them that is.
I’d already made up my mind as they brought me here. I don’t care if it’s two men or twenty, in the end there are only two outcomes in my mind. I try fight and escape, or I try fight and die. Doing nothing isn’t an option, and there’s no way these people will let me walk away alive.
So long as they live I can’t.
There’s only one way to resolve this.
Kill, or be killed.
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I think I quite like first person after writing this, and sorry for the info dump, I’m working on it. Once again please tell me what you think?
I skipped the first six years of Lewis’ life. I felt it was boring to write about and read since it’d be pretty uneventful, sorry for anyone who expected this to start from a younger age.
For anyone who happens to have read my other story (which I got kinda bored of to be honest) you’ll notice I reused the names from my other story in this one. I liked them so saw no reason to change them.
Also that first line in italics is a date which you probably figured out. A year is called a cycle, and each cycle is divided into four rotations, each with three segments. One segment is equivalent to thirty days on earth. As a key...
Segment = 30 consecutive days (a day is the same as our own, 24 hours)
Rotation = 3 consecutive segments (90 days)
Cycle = 4 consecutive rotations (360 days)