David woke up with a start, whipping his head back away from the desk he’d passed out on top of. The mark left by the book he’d been reading sat as a warm deep red dent in his cheek. He yawned, stretching his arms out and then placed his hand to his neck to begin work on the intense kink he’d created in it.

“Magic, huh.”

He said to no one, a hint of awe in his voice. And this is just the stuff for novices, he thought. There was so much to unpack. He’d been especially entranced by the specialization they called Borrowed Magic, partially for it’s clear uses in battle but also because it mentioned the Hero specifically. Borrowed magic, the book claimed, allows you to use stored force or energy at a later time, or it lets you use someone else’s strength or energy. The hero was unique though, unlike others they could ‘borrow’ energy without storing it, or as the book put it: “it is as if the Hero is able to borrow energy from the Gods themselves.”

I have to try that. David thought. He could picture himself, stronger than ever, stronger than was humanly possible, standing up against foe after foe. Striking them down with inhuman speed and force. Perhaps this fighting thing won’t be all bad.

He lit the small lamp on the desk, its light seemed so much dimmer now with the sun streaming through the window. He took a deep breath in, smelling the smoke and heat as it filled his nose. He drove his thoughts inward and tried to search his body for anything that felt different. Feel for the source of magic the way the book had taught him: focus on a single sound or sight until everything else faded away. The light of the candle flickered in front of him, once, twice, as he searched inside his chest. The tension in his shoulders and neck filled his focus and then melted away, the light supplanting them in his mind again. The candle and its flickering warmth, he felt a similar warmth flicker inside him, or was it beating? A heat like the flame started to smoulder in his chest, growing with each beat of his heart until suddenly David’s thoughts were interrupted-

He suddenly shook with a huge chill, a massive starving shivering sensation overtaking him. He realized that his clothes were soaked with sweat, he’d slept in them. The plain t-shirt he was wearing stunk and clung to his body. It reeked. His eyes drifted back to the bed, there was a plain tunic and some sort of cloth pants with a drawstring laid out on it, next to another silver platter of food. Meat and some sort of fried potatoes piled high next to a few fruits that resembled red oranges. He suddenly felt very cold and very hungry. It smelled too good. He started to eat.

William had been tasked with evaluating the hero’s capabilities. His King trusted him to discover any talent the boy held and nurture it quickly. It was up to Leeuw and Maria to worry about where that talent would lead them all after that. The thought filled William with some mirth: he didn’t envy that role at all, he would rather fight and teach. A thin smile spread across his aged face. It was the sort of smile a boy might have before starting trouble, the smile before a minor theft or a schoolyard fight. The big picture was never his strong suit and it would never need to be. That was his bond to his lord, he handled the current conflict, the current moment. He would fight as he always had, and cause trouble for their enemies as he always had - for another day, one day at a time.

William stood in front of David’s room for a moment, collecting himself from his thoughts, he stood up straighter, ready to set the scene for a new student. His knuckles swiftly wrapped twice against the door to David’s room as he opened it, the creak of older, ungreased hinges making him wince as it swung inward. His eyes scanned the room, landing briefly on the lit candle and messy pile of books, then the too clean bed, clearly unused, before settling on David - hunched over a piece of meat, holding the bone of a chicken leg in his hand and biting into it ravenously, the juices rolling over his bare chin.

“Ahem!” William announced himself. David turned, it took a few seconds for his focus to come back, his eyes searching almost wildly for a moment until resting on William.

“Oh, uh. Hello... Hi.” David’s cheeks warmed slightly as meat juice started to seep into the top of his white t-shirt. Lines spread around William’s eyes, his cheeks raised ever so slightly but his jaw held firmly clenched.

That bastard, he’s trying not to laugh, thought David.

“I’d like to see you in the training yard this afternoon, if you’re amenable to that. Before you should have time to… finish your meal and wash up if you’d like. If you need any directions be assured that everyone in the castle knows who you are and will be happy to help.”

“Uh, sure.” David blurted out, while feeling absolutely not sure at all. Before he could gather himself and say anything else, William turned and strode out of the room.

So, some kind of combat training? David was torn. On the one hand the idea of exploring combat and the magic he’d use for it was tempting. On the other hand he desperately did not want to be reduced to some kind of soldier. He hadn’t fought anyone since he had a shoving match with his brother more than ten years ago, and they’d been fighting over the TV remote. God TV, I’ll miss that. Almost as much as showers and toilets.

David sighed, he hadn’t been here long but he was sure that as a modern man with a modern education had more to offer than a Hero’s raw strength. Civilization had moved on from this sort of feudal world once for a reason, and he would show it how to move again. This world had magic sure, and it wasn’t exactly like the one David had come from but it was primitive too, undeveloped. A fresh new canvas to be made beautiful, David hummed to himself, he knew he could be an excellent artist.

He started eating again, more slowly now that he’d filled his stomach a bit and embarrassed himself. The potatoes were chunked up and fried in some kind of fat. It was tastier than he’d expected. It reminded him of diner hash browns, generously doused in fat and salt.

The chicken legs were well salted too and had some other spice on them he couldn’t quite place, something slightly sweet and smokey with the smallest hint of heat. Maybe paprika? He’d have to find out what spices they had access to here, especially since food was one of the few luxuries he expected they’d have. All in all it was a strange breakfast, a feast that he’d expect for dinner instead of to start the day. He was starving though and appreciated it.

He started to peel one of the red oranges, the skin was thicker than he had expected, it came off easily and revealed a tiny yellow fruit underneath. This was the first food he didn’t recognize, but he bit in anyway. It was rich, sweet and quite sour all at once. A citrus that married the flavour of a lemon and a blood orange. Reminds me of a grapefruit, how strange. David’s mouth puckered slightly, it was a bit too bitter for his taste. He wiped the chicken off his chin and stood, dropping the rest of the weird orange back onto the silver platter. He looked over at his new clothes, laid out on the bed beside him, and thought: fine, first we fight but then you'll see it my way.