Rebirth

{Excerpt}

James T. Earl passed away at the age of 27 in the hospital, on July 14, 2021. He lost his brave and long battle with cancer, but not without leaving his mark on this world. He is survived by Aunt, Mary Wilson, his cousins, Karen, Talon, and Madison, and his grandparents Jeanette and Dougie.

A young yet renowned historian in the field of polemology, he will be remembered by his family, friends and colleagues for the regard he held towards his career, his passion for wildfowling and mountaineering, and even less known, his secret affection towards MMO wargaming. The rather amusing ‘waifus’ theory he proclaimed during his college days and his preference for anime 2D girls with big boobs over real girls will also not be forgotten(Laughs).

We know James is now with his parents, Joan and Mia Earl and is loved here on earth as well as in heaven.

A private funeral service was held at St. Mary’s Catholic Church on Sunday, August 16, 2020, and a memorial service is planned for a later date.

Please do not send flowers. Remembrances may be made to...”

...

Excerpt from James Earl's Obituary, written and published by his surviving maternal aunt, Mary Wilson, in XXXX, on the 30th of July, 2021.

{END}

11.13.1623 S.T.

Windy Fir Woodlands, Alvia province,

North of the Capital, Greystones.

Algrim

...

Death.

A splatter of crimson and a raising blade. A man's head flew, drawing a bloody arc through the air.

The headless body fell, blood pooling quickly underneath, soaking the dried autumn leaves maroon.

With a hint of fear in his eyes, the last man watched frozen as Aden lowered his raised greatsword. Viscous blood dripped down the blade.

"Pl-please, please" he stammered fearfully. His gaze flickered towards the queen and princess mounted on their horses a short distance away behind Aden. Much to his dismay, he grimly realised he was the only one left alive. The rest of his accomplices either lay dying or dead in murky pools of their blood and entrails.

Fear overtook his reasoning. He turned to run but slipped on the decomposing foliage. Aden’s blade stabbed down as he attempted to rise to his feet a second time, impaling him in one fluid motion.

Aden stoically glanced around before turning back.

"Pardon my unsightliness, Your Majesty, your highness" The duke apologised, bowing towards the queen and princess.

"Hmm..." They nodded as they made a valid point to avoid glancing at the brutalized bodies.

"Who were they?" queen Irina asked as Aden returned to them.

"Common bandits. The stupid things were hunting us for sport," he replied offhandedly, as he yanked his blade out of the dying man before wiping it with a leaf he picked from the floor. He sheathed his weapon in its scabbard before mounting his horse, saying. "Let's go, your Majesties. We cannot camp here anymore, I suggest we find someplace else to set up for the night."

...

Five hours later.

Under the shadowy light of the setting sun, Aden stoked a fire.

The camp was silent, only the sound of katydids singing could be heard as nighttime steadily approached.

"Lord Aden,"

"Yes, Princess?" Aden said without looking up.

"My father,” she asked softly, “what happens now?”

"He will survive," Aden said, seemingly unperturbed by her underlying emotions. “They might starve him, humiliate him, mildly torture him, but he will be fine.”

The middle-aged duke knelt in front of the bonfire poking the flames with a dead branch, his dark irises reflecting a fiery glow.

"Leonard is more useful to them, alive. A dead king is of no value to anyone."

Silence befell the camp once more for a few moments before Aden continued.

"I'm sure he is going to be fine,” he added, attempting to lighten the mood. “Very few know how resilient his Majesty can be if he truly desires so. It's almost roach-like if you ask me. This I say from experience."

His words, which unsurprisingly, were taken very poorly by the princess.

"You will not speak of the king with such levity," Iris cautioned monotonously, not in the least amused by the playful jab at her father’s resilience.

Aden shrugged noncommittally.

"Leonard is a brother first before a king in my heart. We’ve been friends long before he even took the crown."

The princess fell silent in thought before sighing a moment later, clearly giving up.

"So, where are we heading to now?" she asked.

"My fief at the border," Aden replied. "We will hole up there for as long as we can until we can find a way to salvage this situation."

"Greenfields?"

"Yes."

“Can we save him?” She asked.

“Hopefully. With time we can buy back his freedom,” Aden said before adding hesitantly,” but given his captors and his identity, I probably won’t be able to afford the ransom unless I pay with my duchy. But that would be unwise since I would not be able to offer us any protection if I lose my title.

"Or my household could swear fealty as a vassal to Hertalese in exchange for negotiating his freedom. This is unlikely to work though, I am sure those greedy Hertaleans would be more interested in your household forfeiting the throne.”

Another bout of uncomfortable silence followed.

"I will try to contact some of the more trustworthy vassals before it comes to that though. Hopefully, things do not deteriorate too much before then."

"...Thank you," Iris said finally.

"For what?" Aden chuckled mirthlessly. "This is my duty as a sworn knight, friend, and brother. I don't need that. If you truly want to thank me, please just try to stay alive and well.

"And take care of your mother," he added, looking towards the queen, Irina, who had curled up in her corner of the camp and silently cried herself to sleep.

"Still,” Iris insisted, “thank you."

"I'll keep watch. Go to sleep, your Highness, we have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow."

{COS}

The Keep, Greenfields,

Souville province,

Algrim.

…

James sat at his desk, shirtless.

He stared contemplatively out at the moonlit night. The beautiful starry sky was unpolluted by city lights. His pale skin was covered in crystalline droplets of sweat, and fresh bandages wrapped around his torso covering his recently treated wounds.

Katydids sang an autumn cacophony far out in the open fields, their songs faintly audible. Eerie shadows stood out prominently on the stone walls, dancing to the silent melody of a flickering flame.

The muted performance continued as the young man gazed towards the silvery crescent moon, much larger than earth's. It peeked out from behind a floating cloud where it hung majestically in the sky.

The transmigrator grew nostalgic, his eyes unfocused and his mind adrift as a sense of calmness permeated the atmosphere.

"So I did die..." he sighed softly with a sense of conclusion, “and this my reincarnation?”

The idea of 'transmigration' and 'reincarnation' was not foreign to the soul once known as James. His old life had countless television dramas, web serials and web novels that depicted numerous renditions of such events. Until his transmigration, however, it was only a fanciful delusion, a tale of myth and fantasy that no one believed was real.

“The Contractor?” James mused with a self-deprecating smirk. “What the hell has my post-mortem nonchalance gotten me into?”

“Levi,” James heard a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," he said without looking back as Lancelot walked into the room.

"The maids informed me that you appeared to still be awake,” The viscount stated in a concerned tone as he walked to stand beside him. “You should try to get some sleep and let your body rest, young lord."

“Where is Sean?” James asked, dismissing Lancelot’s concern entirely, “and the men who fought alongside him?”

The viscount hesitated briefly for a second before giving a reply.

“...They have deserted. Your brother―”

"He is not my brother!" James growled, unable to fully rein in the foreign emotion.

Lancelot froze at the unexpected outburst, the room settling into an uncomfortable silence.

“Forgive me,” James said with a frown as he stared at his palm, “my emotions at the moment appear to be somewhat… beyond me.”

Silence.

“Why did he do it?” Levi asked with a weary sigh as he looked back to the starry sky, confusion clouding his features.

”Does he not care what father will do to him when he returns? There will be a rather handsome bounty for his head when this reaches the duke’s ears.”

Lancelot stiffened for a moment, a reaction the reincarnator was quick to notice.

“Are you hiding something from me?” James asked, his tone chilling.

The young viscount hesitated for a moment before sighing. “That won’t be happening in the foreseeable future.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

"Your father sent a message home that arrived two days ago by carrier pigeon. I quote ’The capital, Greystones, has fallen, and his Majesty, the king, has been captured. I escort the Queen and Princess to safety as you read. May the ancestors be with us’. As of now details regarding the situation remain foggy, but we received additional messages from other sources confirming this."

“That is impossible,” James scoffed. "The capital fell? You jest?"

“I dare not jest about such matters.” Lancelot sighed, shaking his head.

“Due to misinformation, our second fleet went on a wild goose chase in an attempt to block a flanking manoeuvre from the south, south-west. This mistake left the first fleet to be decimated by a coalition fleet of Hertalean and Verumitte ships that in reality continued their course from the east. Shipbreaker bay fell in a day. A fire in two of the cannon towers defending the harbour allowed a gap to form in the defence to which the Hertalean ships docked.

“Earl Milas of Fort Keptos was assassinated, his men soon falling to mutiny before the invaders even arrived. Sir Tone surrendered Withall Keep to Hertalean occupation immediately after placing his father under house arrest, while Viscount Pedro simply opened the eastern gates of wall Maria for the invaders to just march in.”

“Greystones has fallen,” Lancelot repeated. “I tried to hide this news until the lord returned but Sean took advantage of the decline in morale that this news would bring to sow discord and breakaway with a portion of the lord’s treasury and several of our men.”

James fell silent.

“Is there anything else you have to tell me?” He asked after another tense moment.

“Yes,” Lancelot said, “The Hera’s… It appears they have also gotten a whiff of the news and are preparing to disown their oaths of fealty.

“They also sent…” Lancelot paused as if the words got stuck in his throat. “A notice.”

“A notice?”

“Yes. An eviction notice. It says we have five days to vacate the duchy with our knightage or they will resort to forceful expropriation.”

“How civil,” Levi chuckled softly with a glint in his eyes, “how ambitious.”

Lancelot watched the young man for a few moments longer, the odd edge to James' gaze as he stared into the night sky seemed to unnerve him.

It must have felt… unfamiliar.

“Lancelot,”

“Yes, Levi?”

“Leave me.”

“...Yes,” Lancelot’s reply came forth. The viscount turned around to leave but paused as James spoke again.

“Lancelot,”

“Yes?”

“Regardless of what happens, from now on, I should be the first that is informed. Understood?”

Lancelot glanced back at the youth staring out the window, the unfamiliarity and unease he felt growing with intensity.

“Thank you,” the viscount said instead. “If you had not moved to my aid, I might have—”

“I need a full report of everything you can gather about the Hera’s in an hour, excluding nothing,” James interrupted monotonously, ignoring the viscount's words. “Their fief, fort, men, family members, current locations, everything. In. One. Hour.”

Lancelot paused for a few moments before sighing.

“Yes… Yes, young lord.”

“You may leave. We will speak of what to make of Josh Hera’s ‘eviction notice’ when you return with what I asked for.”

James waited till he heard the door shut behind him before letting out his bated breath.

“Hue Dywn?” he mused. Shutting his eyes, he let the katydids’ song seep into his psyche.

“I will remember this.”

...

Morning, the next day.

In his stone-walled room, James, now Levi, sat on his bed eating a kaya fruit that bore a striking resemblance to earthly peaches, albeit deep purple. A loaf of rye bread with a cup of milk lay on a tray by his side. He watched Lancelot staring back at him with dark circles under his eyes. Neither had slept all night.

Levi turned to stare out the window, watching squirrels dart about in a tree not far from his window. The serene quietness was finally broken by Lancelot’s voice.

"Are you sure about this, Young lord," he asked hesitantly, “Will this work?”

“It will,” Levi replied blandly.

"We only have seventy-four men left, Levi. Lord Aden took the bulk of our forces to aid the king at the first notice of war and of what was left, more than a two-thirds were dead or deserted during Sean’s mutiny. The Hera’s currently outnumber us three to one.”

The viscount's eyes held a hint of uncertainty as he sat in front of Levi. “The slightest mistake in this plan could doom us all.”

“That is why you will be the one in charge of this. I trust you can avoid making mistakes in such simple yet important matters.”

“This is in no way a simple plan, my lord,” Lancelot said with a hint of admonition in his voice.

"Then what do you suggest we do," Levi asked in a detached tone as he took another bite of the fruit in his hand. “Although unlikely, the Heras might hound us to death the moment we honour the notice and leave the safety of this keep, I don’t remember Earl Josh nor his son to be the honourable kind that plays by the rules.”

Lancelot hesitated for a few moments before he sighed as he fell silent.

“Do you not trust me, Lancelot?” Levi asked, still staring out the window. He took another bite out of kaya.

Silence.

“Do you not trust me?” Levi repeated as he turned to face the viscount. The suspicion in Lancelot’s gaze could not be any more blatant, but Levi could not afford the luxury of placating the older man. A show of force would have to suffice.

Lancelot stared back at Levi, for several moments, before collapsing under the transmigrator’s blank gaze.

“When do we leave?” he asked wearily, clearly giving up on convincing Levi otherwise.

“Today.” The transmigrator declared. “After I have had a meal, a bath and a proper nap.”

"I guess it's high time I paid the neighbours a visit."

Disclosable Information:

Gambeson: A type of padded clothing usually worn in conjunction with other forms of armour for bodily protection, or as a stand-alone piece of armour. Wimple: a cloth headdress covering the head, neck, and the sides of the face, usually worn by women.