A politician’s new world.

  Chapter 1: A New World and a New Opportunity.

  (No one’s POV)

  The boy opened his eyes and looked around: blue skies and green trees as far as he could see. He then looked down at his tiny hands, smooth and clean without any of the blemishes he had gained over his long life. Then, he turned to the small river noted at his right. As he stared in, the image reflected in the water was a dark redhead with spiky hair, pale skin, and green eyes. “WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKK??????????????!!!!!!!!!”

  --(The Child’s POV)

  Okay, first of all, I should be brown-haired and brown-eyed. Second, I don’t recall being this short. It's hard not to notice my sudden reduction in height when I’m a proud 6-foot-1-inch man. If I had to guess, I was perhaps 4 feet tall…at best. Okay, now run down the list of possibilities of what happened. One, I suddenly mutated, extremely unlikely; two, somebody, somehow, put my brain in the body of either a child or an individual suffering dwarfism, also rather unlikely; three, the almost certain but most terrifying, I’ve been reincarnated in an Isekai World. To be Isekaied is to be brought to a completely different world through various means, like reincarnation.

  How do I know the third one is the most likely true? The damnable Security Services would have been on top of me almost immediately if it was option one or two. Even if I suddenly changed bodies or mutated like crazy, which ties into what I was doing. I was giving a speech to my supporters. It is a necessary task when you’re the President of the Unified Territories or former President, considering I almost certainly died. However, I don't think anyone would recognize the title unless they were from my world.

  Was I shot? I didn’t recall hearing any such sounds before it cut to bck, although the phrase ‘cut to bck’ is a little much. It was like, one moment on the stage, the next here. Maybe I passed out from some disease? I mean, it’s rare, but it does happen. The underlying condition went undetected, and it was too te for me. And it could be poison, but I would think my body would warn me in some way. I know my policies were progressive, but I don’t think somebody would outright shoot me. Well, I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt. Besides, it would be hard to find out the truth now, you know, since I died.

  Now, considering my ck of body pain, I’m likely a kid again. You can tell how much your body hurts in your te fifties.

  OK, so first things first, I needed clothes. I mean, look at me; I was buck naked. Next, I needed clean water, shelter, and a healthy food source, all in that order. Rules of threes, as I recalled: three minutes without oxygen, three hours without warmth, three days without water, and three weeks without food. But with how warm it was, I could shuffle the rules around a little. Now, if I followed the river, I should reach a settlement, but I didn’t have any money, and I’m a better man or rather a better kid than to steal clothes. I couldn’t just tie a vine around my waist, however, because for all I knew, the pnts here were poisonous or, at the very least, mild skin irritants. Eh, I’ll figure something out for clothing.

  Humans in the distant past always congregated near sources of fresh water. Nowadays, you can live however far as you want in most countries thanks to advancements in water distribution. But the river flow was still a good indicator of where I should go as there should be something artificial near freshwater. First, I’ll try going downstream and see if it leads me to a ke with some small settlement. If not that way, I’ll go upstream.

  I stuck my hand in the water to feel the flow and began walking in that direction. And I walked and walked and walked some more. I felt the hours slip by. Damn, these tiny legs! However, before I knew it, the sky was dimming, so I had maybe another hour of light. I needed a water source and fast. I sat down and gathered some vines, ripping the fibers apart. Now, I needed to twist them into some primitive rope. I knew watching those survival videos as a kid would come in handy. Next, gather some twigs, acting as fuel, and some logs to use as firewood. Soon, using the rope, I made a bow shape with a decently straight stick that still had a bit of flex so as not to break. It then took the form of a bow drill so I could make fire via friction. And I can use that fire to boil water.

  Why not just drink directly out of the river? It does look clean, after all, and that’s the problem. Microscopic bacteria, invisible to the naked eye, should still exist, ones that can make people violently ill or even kill in some cases. Especially if there happens to be a vilge upstream, as human waste contains a multitude of bacteria that are harmful to other humans, so I needed to make and cook a cy pot before I could boil the water. It should only take about six hours. The human body can live up to three days without water, so I still have two days before I’m out of time.

  Mud, mixed with crushed rocks and a bit more water, combine to make primitive cy, which can then be molded into a pot. It isn’t pretty or professional, but it will at least function as I desired. I didn’t want the pot to suddenly break, so I made several passes with my hands, smoothing out the rough edges and strengthening the overall structure. Now, I needed to leave it to dry by the fire. And it’ll be a while, so I should now have time for sleep. Thankfully, I seem far enough from the main path that I might not encounter anything like svers. Yep, a rather dark chapter in human history, svery. It’s entirely possible that I ended up in some dark age world. It is not the most comforting thought to fall asleep on, but the mind turns dark when it wants to be.

  I woke up with my back stiff and a little cold. I was still exhausted. If I had to give a guess based only on instincts, I only got five hours of sleep. But I’ve operated on less, so I got to work. It was still dark out, and the fire had puttered out, but thankfully, it was visible enough with a bit of difficulty. Now, to check that pot. I gave a heavy knock to it, proving it was solid. I can now fire-bst it. Why do I need to fire-bst it? So the pot can hold water without leaking everywhere. But before that, I needed to remove the ashes from the firepce. Maybe I should have made a second pot to store it all. Oh well, hindsight is a bitch and a half.

  Why did I need ashes? To make primitive soap. I needed to keep my hands clean, after all. I know cleanliness wasn’t a big thing in ancient times, but I didn’t want to die by the time I was forty, at least in this life. I did die when I was fifty-seven, young for a national average life expectancy of eighty-three, so pardon my hesitance. Now, I need to make a second pot, two pot lids, and a cup and dry them while I fire-bst the first pot.

  But before making something like soap, I realized I needed food. Not desperately, but the longer I go without, the weaker I’ll be and the longer it will take to recover said strength once I do have it. I took another gnce around and bit out a curse at roughly the same time my stomach growled. It's springtime based on all the flower bulbs that surround me. This means I won’t freeze to death in the middle of the night should it suddenly get nippier, but it also means very few berries to be had. Why choose berries for food? I have zero clue how to identify tree roots or fungi, and I don't know that the tter is widely avaible in spring. I spent another hour making the extra pots and lids before starting the fire and leaving my works of primitive art to cook. Now, I could better see potential food with sunlight cracking the night sky.

  Time to forage. If I remember correctly, ten percent of yellow or white berries are edible, fifty percent of red berries are edible, ninety percent of blue, bck, or purple berries are edible, and ninety-nine percent of clustered, otherwise known as aggregate berries are edible. Of course, that figure could and likely will be different in this world, but hopefully, the flora won’t be all that different. After thirty minutes of searching, with the day getting brighter, all I could come up with was some ripe red berries. Ones I don’t recognize. Fuck.

  I nervously gulped, fifty percent chance here, before I bit into one of them and blinked at the taste. This fvor… it’s reminiscent of strawberries. It’s not a perfect match, and the shape is very different, but for now, it’s food. I only ate a small handful; I needed to conserve my food. And a more petite body means less food is required. Maybe I can even find some springtime grains to mix with water to make primitive bread. But let’s hope I didn’t just give myself food poisoning.

  Returning to my campfire after the small meal, the fire started to die, so I tested the strength of the lids, second pot, and cup. Solid, but only some of the moisture is out. Now, how do I grab the pot in the fire? Do I make some wooden tongs? That would make sense. I put more kindling and logs on the fire, letting it build up again before moving to fashion some tongs. I needed four branches, some primitive rope, and a pivot point. A rock should be effective as said pivot point.

  Ten minutes ter, I had a pair of tongs. Now, I needed to grab the pot, which was still on the fire. And… got it. Pull up, move a couple of feet away, and set it down to cool. Twenty minutes should be enough before I move it to the river; I don’t want to accidentally crack it by rapid departure changes. I remember breaking a gss jar that had just come from the dishwasher because I had put ice in it. Bored, I poked at the fire that continued to rage. And then an idea came to me. I didn’t want to leave everything behind, so a cart would be a good idea. The question was how to make a wooden one. The wheels shouldn’t be too hard, as I could chip away at some stones for a few hours, but I needed to make the cart capable of storing heavy equipment. Retively heavy, at least. I doubt that anything I fashioned could carry something big like a server.

  I should also cut down a few thin trees. A rudimentary axe could be fashioned from a sharpened rock and a sturdy enough branch. I dug out a decent-sized hole in the thick branch, spent a few hours smoothing out a rock into an edge of sorts, and after an hour of work, I cut down three small trees, roughly as thick as an adult’s wrist. I pced the fallen trees over by my pseudo-camp and hand-striped the bark. I might as well use what I cut off the trunks as charcoal. Suddenly remembering the fire and the pot, I moved the now cool-to-the-touch pot to the inside of the river, and it began to collect water. Thirty seconds ter, I hoisted what I could, letting a bit of water pour out first. This was heavy!

  “Huuuuuuuu…” A medium-sized pot of water, which was difficult to carry, was now collected. I cursed my ck of strength. I could lift 200 pounds in my prime, and now I can barely hold 20. Returning to the fire, I moved the cy pot, lids, and cup into the fire so I could fire bst them, now undoubtedly dry enough not to crack from expanding moisture. Let’s get back to the cart. Using the axe I fashioned, I cut one of the trees into four pieces—roughly one arm length for the overall length and two arm lengths for the width.

  After a few angled cuts, I now had four pieces that could be tied together with some primitive rope. Now, I needed to make some wooden pnks from the other trees, and two hours ter, I had wood for the cart. It was nothing fancy, as all I did was cut the logs into halves. A little bit of rope was weaved through the rough pnks and properly knotted, and I now have a somewhat flimsy wagon for storage. Next, I have to build some wheels out of shaved stone. And after that, it would be time to put the pot of water in the fire.

  Of course, it was difficult, especially with my ck of strength, but using the tongs, I removed the fire-bsted pots and lids before pcing the water-filled pot in the center of the diminished but still present fire. Just one more log into the pile, and I’ll allow this fire to burn until it runs out. Plenty of safe water should be left, even if some boils off.

  Of course, creating wheels sounded more straightforward than it was. I managed to give myself a couple of bruises on my hand and cut myself more than a few times on the sharpened edge. It was much harder to make than the axe was because I needed to keep them circur. But with some difficulty and persistence, I now have four roughly even-sized wheels with holes for wooden bars. After attaching the wheels and tying them to the wagon, I gnced at the pot, which had started to steam but had not yet boiled.

  Now, it’s time to get more berries. It had been a few hours, and my stomach was rumbling again. Hopefully, the water will have been sufficiently boiled by the time I’m done so I can put out the fire. With some food and water in my stomach, I could hopefully catch a small animal and fashion myself some garments, at least rge enough to hide my shame—bonus: some meat for protein.

  An hour ter, I was satisfied with what I had eaten and returned to the fire that was starting to die down. I collected the cooling pots and put them in the wagon, keeping a lid nearby for the pot of water. Now that the fire was far smaller, I could cover the pot to prevent more water loss through steam. Shortly after, the fire died down, vanishing with a puff of smoke. I collected the still-warm ashes to be put in a separate pot for making soap. And the final touch, I collect as many berries as possible and put them in my little wagon. I’ll need to ration these until I get to a vilge or a caravan. Whichever comes first.

  I just got to wait for the water to cool off enough to pick up. “Which…will take at least an hour, if not more. Dammit!” I bite out an annoyance at that thought but decide to sit down and wait. I can’t do anything about it. Maybe I should take a nap? Yep, I could feel some fatigue, and running a child’s body on only five hours of sleep was problematic. Yeah… a nap would… be… good. And before I knew it, I fell asleep.

  And suddenly, I woke up. It was one of those periods of sleep for the sake of sleep, so no real dreams were to be had. But I very rarely dreamt anyway. But when I did dream, it was very bizarre. One time, I remember dreaming of a MePhone Zombie apocalypse, and my youngest sister turned into a half-zombie because she ate some berry that stopped the zombification. Please don’t ask me why; I don’t get it either. However, the mental reminder of my sister made me think of the people I left behind.

  My mother, four younger siblings, two brothers and two sisters, and my… two children. By the time I became President, my children had become full-grown adults. My eldest child, a female, was adopted, while my youngest, a male, was my biological offspring. I had my son as part of a paid arrangement with a carrier. It was more of a, ‘I wanted a biological child, but I didn’t have the time to try and find the ‘perfect soul mate.’ But that didn’t mean that I loved my children unequally. No, they were the most important things to me. I looked up, my vision starting to blur. Was I… crying? Maybe? I guess it took a while for it to set in that I had almost certainly died and left them behind. All the anime I watched as a teen had people excited for a new world experience, but I guess they never considered who they left behind. I didn’t think about my father, though; after all, he passed when he was 72. He was a bit young, but it was understandable when he was at higher risk due to factors like high cholesterol, constant stress when he was younger, and a couple of times he had surgery to help with failing organs.

  I got up, tears still running down my face, when I grabbed the fire-bsted cup, lifted the water lid, and got myself a drink. It didn’t taste like regur tap water, but that was to be expected due to the ck of fluoride and other minerals. I kept thinking about my family. I started feeling many more emotions, regret being the primary one. Here I am, in a new world, while I left them behind. Even though they will never hear it, I’m sorry for leaving you.

  But at least I did leave something behind for them. My total net worth when I died had ended up at seven-point-five million. It was not an incredible amount compared to some, but it was still a lot. To my siblings, I left two-hundred-fifty grand each and five hundred grand each to my two children. Only about two million out of my seven-point-five million net worth, but I did have a good point not to give them all the money as I would have wanted them to maintain a good work ethic. That would seem odd to the unobserved, but it’s my will; I can do what I want with it. As for the other five-point-five million, the remaining total was to be divvied equally to the twenty charities of my choosing, as stated in my will. So about two-hundred-seventy-five grand each.

  It took some breathing exercises, but I finally recovered from my sudden crying session. Was the reason why I cried so much because of hormonal imbance? This body was one that I would assume to be a child’s. Regardless of that thought, I had work to do. I gathered everything and gave the wagon a loaded test tug with a rope. A pot of ash, a pot of water, a cup for said water, and a small pile of berries for food were kept in the cup—about three handfuls. Not a lot, but rationed out, that would be about two days with roughly a handful and a half of berries daily. It wouldn’t be great, but it would keep me going.

  *Growl* Oh no, my gut is making a sound. It doesn’t feel like being sick but more like a bowel movement. Wonderful. Well, now I needed to dig a shallow hole and gather some tree leaves so I wouldn’t give myself a rash by using something on the ground. Most poisonous pnts are low to the ground. Fun.

  I finished by rinsing my hands a few times in river water. It's not that hygienic, but I’ve yet to make crude soap, so this is the best I could come up with. I’m sure any kid scout would devise a better pn, but I was never a part of that organization, so sue me. On second thought, please don’t; I don’t have any money.

  Now that that’s taken care of, it’s time to soldier onward. I grabbed my wagon and began to pull. I looked at the river I’d been following and saw a few fish flowing through it. Maybe ter I could make a spear and eat some fish. I never liked fish in my old life, save for canned tuna. Weird, right? But desperate times call for desperate measures. And then I froze.

  I heard voices, three of them. They seemed to be talking to each other with the sound of a wooden cart tailing them down the road. I quickly hid myself and my wagon and watched from behind a bush as three men walked down the road.

  (No one’s point of view)

  Two men walked down the path, while a third sat in the driver’s seat for a wagon full of various items. The two people walking side by side were a merchant and a bodyguard. The merchant looked simir to the other merchant, the driver, with brown hair and eyes but a slightly different jaw protrusion. The bodyguard was bald with a scar over his left eye. A single mule was towing the carriage.

  “Are you sure you know where you’re going?” The driver merchant asked the walker merchant.

  “Yes, I’m sure, Dubbon. It’s only four more days until we reach the satellite town of Ricrard.” The walker replied.

  The bald mercenary rolled his good eye. He worked in the town where both merchants were from. One would typically mistake them as brothers with their identical looks and constant bickering when, in fact, they were not. Although possible, they probably didn’t even share the same great-grandparent; unlikely, but possible. Most soldiers, guardsmen, and church knights were the men of the house and often died on the battlefield, not even meeting their offspring. So, it’s entirely possible they shared a great-grandmother who remarried after becoming a widow and had more children.

  And then a shiver went down the mercenary’s spine. He waved his hand in the air.

  “What’s wrong, Cobalt?” One of the merchants, Azure, asked.

  Cobalt pointed his finger ahead. “There looks to be the remains of a fire. Hold on.” He approached the ashes and touched them. “The ashes are cold but not wet from morning dew. Meaning somebody was here the past few hours.”

  “Well, that’s fine; after all, they probably moved on, right?” Dubbon mentioned. Azure nodded.

  Cobalt frowned. He wasn’t so confident of that. Call it instinct, but he felt as if they were being watched. And then, a twig snapped. He was ready, pulling out his sword and jumping towards the sound. He leaped over a bush, and only by pure luck did he stop in time before lobbing the head off of a child. A redheaded and nude child.

  Cobalt’s first instinct was fear until he looked into the child's wrongly colored eyes. The green eyes also bore fear and something else buried deep beneath—mostly fear.

  “Cobalt, what’s-” Dubbon said as he dismounted and froze. He had done so when he gazed at the nude child. “Is that a demon?”

  Azure began to sweat nervously. Cobalt lowered his sword a bit. It was never a good idea to lower your weapon in the presence of a demon, but this child… they were afraid of a single mercenary with a slightly dull bde. That didn’t speak of them being a demon. They didn’t even have a good defense, just the type of instinctual form most people have.

  “I’m not certain about that. Could one of you check?” Cobalt asked. He was not putting away his sword until he was sure of his suspicions.

  Azure obliged and pulled out a circur piece of gss surrounded by a metal ring—a cheap and common magic tool. “Now, Basic Appraise,” Azure spoke as he peered one eye into the lens. It momentarily fshed, and he sighed with relief, “I can assure you that this child is a human.”

  Dubbon looked at Azure in shock. “How? Humans don’t have red hair like that.”

  Cobalt, having put away his sword, answered. “It’s likely that he has some demon blood in him.”

  “What, like a half-demon hybrid?” Dubbon asked.

  Cobalt shook his head. “No, if he were a half-demon, the appraise would have picked up on it. It’s more likely that he has a single demon ancestor. Still, after so many generations of human interaction, his red hair is the only thing about his demon heritage that expresses itself.”

  Azure nodded. “Yeah, it’s extremely rare, but it does happen. The question is, what do we do?” The Merchant asked the other two.

  Cobalt frowned. “Not sure. Clearly, he doesn’t trust us.” He gestured to the kid, who was still in a weak defensive form. “And he doesn’t seem to have anything on him.”

  Unknown to the trio, the redhead had hidden his wagon under nearby bushes. The child recalled how a famous Roman emperor who was physically inept had been seen as a non-threat by the people who had killed his family and ter became ruler simply because he was the only one left alive. He didn’t want the three travelers to notice how smart he was, especially for someone his age.

  Azure sighed. "Maybe we could take him with us?”

  Dubbon frowned. “No, that’s not going to work. We only have enough food for three, and the trip is four more days.”

  The merchant was correct. Even if they only took two meals a day from their stockpile and added small game hunting on top, they didn’t have enough for a fourth mouth, even a small one. It certainly didn’t help that it was early spring, and most rge animals were only starting to come out of their winter hiding spots. They would be lucky to catch a couple of rabbits.

  Cobalt had an idea. He picked up a rge stick and began digging in the dirt. The child immediately knew what he was doing, simir to picture communication. The child released his defensive posture and stared at the ground. Cobalt drew three boxes with triangles on top, then a few stick figures with smiles. He then pointed his free hand in the direction the group came from.

  The redhead nodded in understanding before kneeling and drawing with his finger. He drew a circur shape before drawing a crescent one. He then sketched a set of arrows like the shapes were following each other. He then held up his hand with one finger extended, two, then three, and so on until reaching five, where he repeated the action.

  Azure huffed. “What do you know, the kid’s smart. He understands day and night, as well as counting.”

  Dubbon shrugged. “It is a basic concept; anyone could understand, given enough time. And based on how much dirt he’s covered in, it’s likely been a long time.”

  Cobalt drew one tally, then a second one half the size of the first. The child nodded before bowing to the three. The child then promptly turned and began to walk in the direction they came from. However, Azure grabbed his shoulder before he could get four steps gone.

  When the child turned his head towards the merchant, the man held a pair of clothes. “Dubbon?” The merchant asked.

  “Yeah, what is it?” Dubbon replied.

  “Grab a small amount of food from the cart,” Azure ordered.

  Dubbon gave an acknowledgment and went to grab a small amount of food. Cobalt gave Azure a look.

  “We can survive with a little bit less food. It’s best if we give him some so he can at least reach the vilge.” The merchant reasoned.

  Cobalt sighed. “Well, you’re the boss.” He wasn’t going to argue with the one paying for his services.

  (The child’s PoV)

  I was genuinely surprised to see a willingness to help some random kid. Considering the current era was before the automobile and likely centuries beforehand, I expected them to pass me by and leave me to my own devices. But, despite my dignity, beggars can’t be choosers. I took the clothes and some food and saw them return to their travels.

  Taking me with them would have been problematic. Maybe there was a shortage of food or clean water? Eh, it doesn’t matter. I quickly put on the child-sized pants and shirt, both made from rough material. Man, if only I were accompanied by that arts and crafts girl from the Professor Rock manga, I read as a teen. She could probably make this far more comfortable.

  I watched as the travelers, having deduced they were merchants, disappeared before I pulled out my wagon and put the food I was given into it. I didn’t want them to think I was too intelligent to be an ordinary kid. When I get to the vilge or town, I’ll have to hide it again, but it's still worth it if I’m underestimated.

  Ah well. There was only a day and a half to go—or rather, two days. I am pretty short, so I can’t cover as much distance in a day as a grown man could. Whatever, let’s go! As I began to walk, I thought about the interaction with the trio. Why did they flinch when they saw me? What was that thing one of them brought up to their eye? Was it some tool? Wait, does this world have magic?! A grin spread my cheeks. Oh, hell yes.

  I couldn’t help myself. I begin to cackle something that would make the emperor from Gaxy Wars jealous. It looks like I’m not at a complete disadvantage. If I could learn even elementary magic, that would immediately increase my odds of survival. Not a bad future, all things considered.