“Well Dalleon, we shall be on our way now.” Mother started to navigate the streets of Buhrgbrannen, casually walking around the crowds that roamed the street. There were no cars on the roads here, so no sidewalks were needed.

As I scanned the shops, I realised that there were no bookshops. Back on Earth, I had been a sucker for classical literature, an old soul just looking for something to cheer me up. But here, I realised, the lack of technology made it hard to mass produce books. Mother had a small bookshelf full of books. As she was well regarded in the magic theorist community, she often got free books whenever new theories were published. There were a few fiction books that she had, but it seemed being an author was such a low paying job that no one wanted to write. I had read almost all of the fiction(and nonfiction) in our house. Soon, I would need to find another way… perhaps I could send an imp to neighbouring houses? I’m not sure. I’ll have to cross that bridge when I come to it.

I was getting a little bit bored of reading history and magical theory though. Maybe, once I was old enough, I could ‘design’ (copy) and sell blueprints for printmaking machines like they had on Earth.. Hell, selling any modern day Earth inventions could make me richer than Father! Just add a little magic here, a little modern tech there, and BOOM! I could create an invention that would change the world. And I’d just keep pumping out new ideas; electricity, AC, guns—wait, no scratch that. No guns. They would probably make them within a few hundred years, and who would want another deadly weapon. I can’t even imagine how deadly magic powered guns would be… Anyway, I could create a corporation that revolutionised the world. Not to mention the money.

I frowned as I noticed that it was an awfully evil thought, especially for a one year old. I had just been reborn, and I already wanted to create a monopoly and become an evil CEO. Point is, I’d never have to worry about money in this world.

My train of thoughts was soon interrupted as I found us standing in front of a bigger building made of stone and wood. Big letters were engraved, spelling “The Stony Arms.” So this is the inn Mother likes, I thought.

Wonderful smells wafted through the air: tomatoes, onions, beef. The food smelled better than anything I’d had since I was reborn. I raised my arm and wiped the drool off my mouth. Mother walked into the building where a young man stood at a front desk of sorts.

He was writing something down and didn’t notice us. Mother waited a few moments, before clearing her throat to get the man’s attention.

His head popped up, and he put on a bright smile. “Hello Madam. Are you staying or just eating?” He asked.

“We’ll just be eating today,” Mother answered.

“Great, table for two?” The man responded.

She looked down at me and said, “We will have a maid coming in here soon, but a small table is fine. You do have high chairs, correct?” The man nodded and gestured for Mother to follow him into the building.

Most commoners ate in an area that resembled a fast food restaurant. The middle and upper class, like my family, would get permission to eat in a sectioned off area, where it was slightly more proper. The noble area would be comparable to a local steakhouse. There was also a slight difference in the menu and ingredients used because of income differences.

Mother was led down the hallway to a table. We passed a staircase that presumably led us to upstairs rooms. We slowed as we approached the table, and the young man bid us farewell. He handed us our menus before proceeding back down the stairs, assumingly back to his desk.

In front of us, two menus were carved into thin slabs of wood. I hadn’t noticed the young man was carrying them until he had set them down. You may wonder why the menus weren’t on paper, and while I’m not sure, it seemed that paper and books were much rarer and hard to produce here. Mother, of course, could afford books because of her noble status and high regard in magical theory, but it was far too fragile to use for something like menus.

I was startled out of my thoughts when Mother rang a bell that was placed on the table. It’s piercing ding dong rung in my ears for a few moments before fading out.

A few minutes after she rang the bell, a waiter appeared and Mother requested a high chair. The waitress left as Mother perused the menu; it seemed that all the things they served here were this world’s version of Italian and French cuisine. Pastas and bread made up a majority of the menu. They seemed to have a form of pizza, too. Pasta. Mmmm. My mouth drooled just thinking about it. I had eaten pasta quite a few times in my life, and it was one of my favourite foods. It must have been too hard for our chef, as we had never had it at home.

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Some time later, the waitress returned with a high chair. Mother put me in it and ordered a few dishes, consisting of a classic red sauce pasta, a white cream pizza, and a bottle of fancy champagne. The waiter seemed to memorise everything, as there was no paper to write down the order. Mother also ordered for me, consisting of some water, a piece of garlic bread, and a small bowl of red pasta with meat sauce. I literally couldn’t wait and squirmed in my seat.

Mother had given me a little toy key ring to mess around with, and that seemed to distract me until the food arrived. It took around a half hour, but the food soon arrived on a big plate. The waiter set down my drink in front of me, fittingly in a sort of sippy cup that couldn’t be spilled. My bowl of pasta was set down next, and the smells wafted into my nose. Instantly, buckets of drool entered my mouth and I instinctively grabbed the fork. Shit! I thought as Mother looked at me, surprised I would use the utensil. I acted quick, throwing the fork across the table as I fake giggled. Mother smiled and shook her head at me. Our maid—who had come to the table during the wait—grabbed the fork and placed it next to Mother. Mother looked to her food, which had all now been set down.

Now, remembering to eat like a baby, I stuck a hand into the pasta and shoved it into my mouth. The rich, savoury flavours resonated from my tongue, as I shoved in another handful. I automatically groaned at how good it tasted. Mother heard this, and laughed. “It tastes good, doesn’t it buddy?” She asked.

I ignored her and continued to eat my pasta, throwing in a bite of the garlic bread—which was light and fluffy on the inside, but buttery and crunchy on the outside—every now and then. Finally, I took a break from the pasta to wash down the food with 2 big gulps of water.

I continued to take a bite, sip, and take another. This cycle continued and I soon finished my food, my belly poking out from under my shirt. I was more full than I’d ever been since my rebirth. Soon, what I can only describe as a food induced wave of fatigue, drifted over me and I closed my eyes. Soon, I fell into a light slumber.

After a little bit, I was woken up by the sound of voices. Sleep still clouded my brain, and It was so warm and soft that I didn’t want to move. Slight bumps told me that we were probably on the way home in the carriage. Peeking one eye open, I saw that Mother was cradling me in her arms. The maid sat in the row across from us and was holding the shopping bags down. They whispered light conversation to each other in an attempt to keep me asleep. I smiled and snuggled into my mother’s embrace, soon falling fast asleep.

***

Azareth sighed in exasperation. “No you cannot go to Heaven. I’ve told you this a million times before, if you have no cardinal sins or virtues, you stay here.”

The wails of a woman filled the air. “B-but my baby is up there! Is t-there any way that I can see him?”

Azareth massaged his temples as a migraine started to pound in his head. “The only way that you can be given permission to travel to or from the three Realms is to appeal to God. I’ll have you know that God is a very busy person, so it might take you years to hear back. So look, if you don’t want to wait that long, I can always erase your memory. And don’t forget you already said no to the quests, so you have to either choose or stay here forever.”

The woman continued to wail and beg, but Azareth tuned out the pleas for help and sent her away.

Dealing with souls in the Celestial Realm was always such a pain. Since they had done nothing in life worth the Heavenly or Demonic Realms—also known as Heaven and Hell—they were doomed to stay here forever until one of three things happened; one, they faded out of existence, two, they were reborn into another world, and three, they accepted quests to be redeemed.

There was also an option to visit family members that resided in the other Realms, but those could take years to process. Not to mention that was in the Celestial Realm time, equal to almost a millennia on Earth. God and Satan were busy people after all.

Azareth looked over at the towering stack of papers that sat on his desk. They were all requests for option two. After all, he was the head demon of the rebirth department. He grabbed his coffee mug and took a large gulp. Black coffee; bitter and scorching hot, just the way he liked it.

Azareth hated his job—filing paperwork was not interesting, fun, or even entertaining busy work. It was a monogamous and boring task, for which he was destined to do for the rest of his life. However he did like one specific part of his job: the actual rebirthing process.

You had two types of rebirths, the ones that are random and chosen by a noble death, and those of which the dead request. Each of these had their specific conditions. The latter had their memory wiped before rebirth and were often reborn wherever they could fit the soul in. The former, however, kept their memories and were often gifted special powers. They also had higher priority on being reborn into noble status and royalty. Azareth favoured the spontaneous rebirths, though he only got to perform one or two a month, as not many die nobly enough to constitute a rebirth. For example, any case where you die to save another might not get you a rebirth, but saving someone who helps and will save more people will. It was all about that domino effect.

These random, unprompted rebirths were the highlight of Azareth’s day, week, month, year, and millennia. It was basically all he looked forward to at his job, and if it weren’t for them he may have gone insane centuries ago.

He had also been having increasing thoughts about Dalleon Baldorbain. It had been four years since he’d been reborn—almost two weeks in the Celestial Realm. He still couldn’t shake the feeling of something being different. This time however, it was mixed with a slight feeling of dread.

Something seemed to tell him he’d be far more involved in Dalleon’s life than he ever had before.

Alas, Azareth continued to brush off the thoughts and continue with his boring, insignificant existence.