I sat down with my lunch on one of the stone bleachers that overlooked the palestra, the training grounds for sports and combat. My lunch was carried in a small, tied knapsack and consisted of dried meats, cheese, and a piece of bread. I also had an identical pack for my new older sister Larissa. The training grounds were a long rectangle of sparse grass and dirt flanked by four bleachers on each side. In the center, Larissa was sparring and training with a few knights. Like me, she had long black hair and bright almost glowing green eyes. She was wearing a short grey tunic that was belted at the waist almost identical to mine. The get-up was typical in the empire, which seemed averse to pants. Men and women alike mostly wore robes, tunics, dresses, skirts, etc.

Unlike my childish body, she stood probably a full six feet tall and boasted a well-muscled physique. She wielded a heavy wooden two handed sword. Called a falx, the blade was curved at a menacing angle. Yet, she swung and parried with incredible speed and dexterity. Within seconds she had disarmed and bruised two of the men. The third lasted only a few more moments before getting knocked to the ground.

I waved her over as the dust settled and handed her the lunch sack when she sat down. I set about cutting the bread in half before stuffing the other ingredients into it, making a rudimentary sandwich. Larissa was more than content to just alternate bites of the various ingredients.

“How are you feeling today?” She asked, concern evident in her voice. I looked up from my work, only then realizing she was staring at my sandwich.

“I’m starting to feel better, maybe even more like myself,” I replied. It had been about a month since I arrived in Aurelia as Gettorix. That first day was hectic. When I started crying the entire castle rushed to the room hearing that I had woken up confused from the accident. The first person there was Larissa, though she was closely followed by Gettorix’s mother Lyra, his younger sister Lyanna, and the castle’s healer. That confusion was soon confirmed as amnesia, a diagnosis I didn’t contest as it was way easier and less dangerous than explaining the real situation. There was no telling what would happen if they knew I was a totally different person who just happened to inhabit the body of their brother and son.

It was only after things quieted down that I had time to process my situation. I was now stuck as someone else, my body on Earth was either dead or comatose in the hospital, or worse some thirteen-year-old boy with a medieval education was inhabiting it. Needless to say, I found this fact hard to deal with. I spent more than a few days stuck in my bed, constantly thinking about my old life, my old relationships and my career. It was hard to accept that I may never see them again.

I stayed that way for about a week: depressed, barely eating, barely getting out of bed. Ultimately, it this new family that pulled me out of my own head. They would visit constantly to check up on me, assuage my fears, and even force me to eat. It might not work on everyone, but the sheer love and sincerity they showed in the first week weighed heavily on my conscience. Their real son was gone through no fault of their own, but I was able to stop them from feeling that loss. I could live on as Gettorix, as a good son and brother. The bad thoughts and feelings didn’t disappear entirely but having a goal like that allowed me to push forward.

In the time since I threw myself into becoming a member of their family. As a frontier aristocrat, that meant training the mind and the body. I started training with Larissa, while my studies were handled by Lyra and the Steward Borik. The two were night and day though. As someone educated in the modern world and having read all the works associated with Aurelia, I was almost supernaturally smart. My martial arts on the other hand had essentially been reduced to the very lowest levels. In my old life, I wrestled for a few years in high school but had no combat experience. I never held a weapon, much less a great sword. It took only a few days before my studies were abandoned in favor of getting my martial skills up to speed. Thus, I found myself spending an inordinate amount of time with Larissa and our family’s knight commander, Sir Rodan, as they whipped me into shape.

“I’m glad, but actually I was inquiring about your body. Between the hits, you took yesterday while sparring and the physical training from this morning…I just do not wish to see you overworked,” she replied. That was Larissa for you. She flipped the switch between sadistic trainer and overprotective sister on a dime. She was the one delivering those blows and adding extra weight on my back, but she was also the one applying the salve and constantly checking in.

“No, actually I feel great,” I said. It was the truth. Unlike my lethargic and weak body back on earth. This one was full of youth and recovered quickly. In part it was due to my youth, kids are always full of energy, but it was mostly due to Gettorix’s lineage as a Lysian. “All my bruises were gone by the time I woke up.”

“Alright then, we should have one more sparring match before father returns tonight.” She said after finishing the meal and folding the sack neatly. In a flash, she strode off the bleachers over to the weapons rack. She then whistled at me before tossing me the signature wooden great sword I had trained with for the last month. This in itself was a ritual of her training and probably a test of my coordination. A test I didn’t pass early on, more often than not I fumbled the thrown sword. Thankfully, in the last few days, I had reliably caught it by the handle every time, which didn’t change today.

Sparring with Larissa was not a fight between equals. She would restrict herself to a few broadcasted movements: A cut, a hack, a stab. Then as I learned to parry and counter these, she slowly added in more complex and subtle movements. This meant I was constantly in a cycle of getting wacked, then learning the counter, then getting wacked again as more complex movements were added. The falx wasn’t the only weapon we practiced. Our family used two other weapons: a thick and massive bow they just called the great-bow and a short poleaxe. The poleaxe training was conducted in a similar way to the falx. The great bow on the other hand was more about strengthening my draw, hold, and learning to aim.

Swords in our hands, we circled each other for a moment, then she closed the distance with a few quick steps and her sword shot forward with a stab. I barely knocked it aside with a swing from right to left. As I did that, I redirected that swing around into my own slash from the right as I also stepped with my right foot in the hopes of getting behind her. She recovered in time and her sword caught mine forcing me back. Soon we were into a rhythm. A swing, a counter, then a “wack” as one of her attacks landed. The process repeated until my body was once more exhausted and covered in bruises.

The reason I was able to undergo such training day after day was due to that Lysian heritage. Lysia isn’t just the name of some frontier wasteland outside of the empire. Hundreds of years before I transmigrated, when Emperor Aurelius was preparing for humanity’s greatest threat, Lysia was one of his strongest allies. It was a powerful, bountiful, and lush nation of nature worshippers guided by an ancient fertility deity from the old world, often just called the Dryad.

Most humans in Tales from Aurelia, had the potential to use many forms of magic though in practice they were limited by various aspects. Magic was almost always used by emitting mana stored in the body. It then traveled via pathways out through an emission point where it transformed into a spell or more often than not harmlessly released. For example, even a human weak in mana can train to eventually summon a small flame in their hands. Lysians on the other hand had no ability to release mana outside their body because they had no exterior mana pathways. All of their mana pathways redirected inwards and circulated throughout the body. Instead of releasing mana constantly, Lysians continually absorbed their mana into their bodies. For some this strengthened their bodies and increased their recovery. Larissa was a perfect example of this. Her body was unnaturally strong. During her sparring just now, she was generating more speed and force than even her physique should have allowed. When a Lysian’s power manifested like this, they were referred to as warriors or champions. The Batvis had five warriors: Our father, the two eldest brothers, Larissa, and me.

We continued the bouts until I was covered in both bruises and sweat. Larissa, seeing my shaky legs and loosened grip called a stop. It was hard work and maddeningly painful. For all the strength and recovery, I was gifted, it didn’t dull my sense of pain. And thinking about it, this was probably a part of the training. Being able to take a hit was as important She stuck her sword in the ground and leaned on it, while I just left my legs collapse and fell to my butt. I clasped my hands behind my head and forced myself to take long deep breaths, an old breathing trick my wrestling coach taught me back in high school.

“Is it me, or did we pick up the pace today?” I asked in between the heaving breaths.

Larissa motioned for water and one of the servants waiting to the side handed her a skin. “We were forced to finish early because of Father’s arrival, so I had to make up the training somehow.” She took a swig of water and then handed it to me. I was too hasty in my drinking and water found its way into my lungs leaving me a coughing mess.

Larissa put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “You’ve done well today; done well this past month. I have never seen you so eager to learn,” she said then gave me a little tap, before pointing towards the western bleachers with her eyes. “Now look sharp, we have an admirer.”

I followed her gaze to the empty bleachers. Then, after looking for an awkwardly long time the smallest of green flashes could be seen at their corner. “Someone else has noticed a change as well, I believe,” Larissa continued. Then she took off with her inhuman speed, sprinting across the grounds before leaping over the bleachers. In another second she came out from behind them holding a squirming girl. She had the same green eyes and long black hair typical of the Batvi children, it was Lya. One thing noticeably stood out though. Her body was sporadically changing colors to try and match her surroundings.

There were five Batvi children. From Oldest to youngest were the twins: Gavayn the younger and Giedi, then Larissa, me, and finally Lyanna. My two older brothers had already graduated from the Officers’ Field Academy and were serving in the imperial army. Larissa had also been attending the Field Academy until our father’s rise in status. Now she would be transferred in the fall to the Royal Academy in the fall, the same school I would be attending as a first year. Save for some exceptions, all children of an imperial noble were required to attend the academy. It was also the same place we would undoubtedly run into Catarina and the rest of the characters from Reclamation of Love as the current imperial year, 236, matched up with the timeframe of the novel.

Lya was nine years old and unlike the other siblings, she was currently manifesting the druid subtype of Lysians. Druids didn’t have the raw strength of the warriors, but they make up for by obtaining much more strategic skills. For example, Lya’s natural camouflage was one of the basic skills they gained. Druids were given a more conscious control over their bodies via mana which gave them a grab bag of skills. Full-fledged druids could hold conversation with flora and fauna and borrow aspects from them. Some of the most powerful were able to even take the shape of some chosen animals.

“Lya, spying on a noble of the empire calls for punishment.” She said in a mocking tone. “I sentence thee to a punishment hug.” She promptly crushed the small girl for a moment in her embrace.

“Stop, I’m not spying!” Lyanna cried. “A runner from father arrived, the caravan will be here sooner than expected.”

“Ah, then why were you hiding?” I asked, finally interjecting into the conversation.

“I-I just felt like it; why do you care?” She said with a bit of malice in her voice. In the past month, I had learned quite a bit about the old Gettorix and the family dynamic. Getti (his nickname) was your typical rambunctious troublemaker. Probably more than that, he might have been a borderline thug. He did not take his studies seriously and chose to spend most of his time goofing off and adventuring. Furthermore, his Lysian heritage had hindered his growth. As soon as his powers manifested he became the strongest kid in his age group by a wide margin. Thus, he usually skipped training sessions. While his relationship with Issa (Larissa’s nickname) seemed good, he also seemed to be at odds with Lya.

For most of my recovery time, Lya never visited unless she was brought by our mother. Even then, she would often stay silent or seem disinterested. Issa explained that the two of us did spend a significant amount of time bickering and fighting. I didn’t know the details, but he seemed like a typical bully, and she probably suffered from it. But from my point of view, it was a bit uncomfortable to be this disliked by a child.

I scratched my head. “Well…I just thought your camouflage was impressive. Without Issa showing me, I would have missed you completely,” I said.

“Whatever, we should see mother,” She replied curtly. I was never great with kids in my first life, but I wasn’t hated by them either.

With that we made our way over to castle’s keep. Baria, the capital of the Roose, started out as a temporary imperial fort set up to defend one of the main paths through the palisades. It was only in recent years that it had grown into true castle town. The keep consisted of a vaulted long hall connected to a fat square tower. It sat atop a hill that had been terraced and reinforced with stone walls that left only a single winding path as its entrance. With the keep in the center, the small town was encased by the old fort walls which had been expanded from their original purpose. The entire complex was set against the west banks of the Roose river which flowed north out of the valley. Architecturally, only the keep and some of the more prominent buildings like the temple followed the Aurelian style of red tiled roofs and white plastered over brick. The rest were mostly log and wood structures with vaulted thatched roofs. The roads and alleys were mostly dirt, though the main street that cut through the town and ran south out valley showed signs of at one point being cobbled.

It was a short walk to the keep. At the base of the hill was a small, fortified gatehouse guarding the zigzag road that crossed the terraces up the hill. The main doors of the keep, made of thick wood reinforced with steel, were flung open for the day. From what I learned since I got here, this meant petitioners could meet with my mother’s court. Though this was standard practice, the village was small and its citizens independent enough that most days no one came.

Today though, that was different. Both the town and keep were in a flurry of activity. Everyone was preparing for my father, Lord Gavayn’s return later that day. Until recently, the valley was an active military zone, being that close to the wastelands meant all manner of beasts and goblinoids were a constant threat. But, since Gavayn received the land as his fief, it became a proper province. It also made it the perfect area for legionnaires retirement. The ex-soldiers needed the land, and the land needed subjects that could handle themselves when faced with danger. Thus, he had spent the past two months in the capital organizing a few thousand retirees and their families for settlement.

In the courtyard outside the keep’s gatehouse banners were being hung, long tables set up, and barrels of ales and wines being prepared for tap. Inside the keep was the same if not a little more extravagant. Servants ran to and from in the main hall, setting plates and pulling tables together. Amidst the chaos sat three figures huddled around a small gaming table. They were playing some card game. The two middle aged men, the skinny and scholarly steward Borik and the bald and scarred knight commander Sir Rodan were currently scowling at their cards. The third figure, a red-haired woman with green eyes and green robes was smiling brightly. The source of their differing attitudes was clear, a pile of copper coins rested in front of her, while the two men had but a handful left.

“Enjoying yourself mother?” Larissa said as we strode into the hall. Our mother, Lyra, rose from the game and walked over to us. Unlike Larissa and I, her features were far softer and willowy. She looked like some type of ethereal nature goddess, probably owing to her druidic powers.

“I’m just milking the last few moments of peace before we actually have to do work again.” She replied. Larissa set Lya onto the ground, who ran over to hug her mother’s leg. Lyra put an arm around her youngest. “Your father will be here within a few hours; I expect everyone to be waiting by the southern gate cleaned and presentable.”

“Yes mother.” The three of us said in unison.

Minutes later I was relaxing in a large, heated tub just long enough to completely lay down in. It resembled a wide cut barrel, made from wood planks sashed together with iron hoops. Despite the Roose being on the frontier, the castle was afforded a few luxuries, the most important being running water. A small aqueduct fed into a water tower on the castle grounds allowing for fresh water to run on the lower levels of the castle and out into the town. This in turn allowed for, among other things, bathing. Nothing beat a hot bath for relaxation, the only issue were the attendants who never seemed to let one do it alone. Ever since being transmigrated the servants insisted doing the majority of menial tasks for me. Scrubbing, washing, drying and dressing my body were basically off limits to do alone. Thankfully, no one had insisted on wiping me after visiting the latrines yet, but I didn’t put them past it.

Soon I was wrapped in the families’ colors; a short green and white tunic belted at the waist, leather sandals secured with straps up the calves, finished off with a green cloak secured by a silver tree broach. My long black hair had been braided and plated with silver. When I reentered the great hall, the household was dressed much the same, though the women wore green paint on their eyes and lips. Everyone looked rather striking. In the month I’ve been here, there hadn’t been any need for ceremonial or formal garb. I was far more used to seeing Larissa and the like covered in mud from training wearing rough spun tunics. But, here and now I realized just how good looking our family was.

As we made our way to the gate, I could feel a pit forming in my stomach. I must have been broadcasting my emotions because Larissa pulled me back from the group.

“Did I push you too far today? You look upset?” She asked.

“No, I’m a bit nervous,” I replied. From what I learned over the past few weeks, Gettorix had been a real problem child, and now, I was an amnesiac. Meeting my war hero of a father didn’t seem like a fun task. Compared to the disciplined twins who were off leading men in battle and my incredible warrior sister, it was easy to see me as a disappointment.

“You? Nervous to meet father?” Larissa said, surprised. Then she sighed. “I forget how much you’ve changed. You shouldn’t be nervous; Father was the reason you were so spoiled before. He would laugh off your antics and never gave you a proper punishment.”

“Really?” I asked, looking into her eyes.

“Yes really, the only child who received more affection was Lya.”

Her words were meant to comfort me, though they only made me think of what else could go wrong. People didn’t rise that far in life without being perceptive. Gavayn may notice how unnatural my change was; notice what was off about me.