Chapter 2: Hey! I’m not alone!

  After days of mundane walking, I had finally reached the small vilge. I peeked from a small hill west of the town entrance. From what I could see, two guards stood at the gate. They looked to be wearing old, slightly dented armor and welding basic metal spears. Likely, this town is not seen as significant, so whoever rules the country doesn’t bother giving out that much in terms of funding.

  I spent half a day scouting. Throughout the day, I saw about thirty people leaving the vilge, and nearly half that number returned carrying some wild animals, which meant local hunters. The rest haven’t, so maybe travelers? This town may act as an intermediary rest stop for a rge city mid-travel—the pce to get supplies and a home-cooked meal.

  Based on the number of animal hunters, maybe a popution of six to seven hundred? Yeah, that was a reasonable estimate. That would mean maybe four dozen farmers, two or three dozen town guards, two or three elementary school level teachers, a couple of smiths, around a dozen merchants, and a few Innkeepers. In terms of infrastructure, it would be half a dozen shops for supplies, a single school, a single church, maybe two guard buildings, a couple of inns, and perhaps a single hospital-like facility—well, not my world’s level of hospital care, but this world’s. The rest of the space would be farmnd or clustered housing to maximize space. Oh! And can’t forget the government offices; it should be either a lordship or a collective, considering the era.

  Altogether, it was better than I expected for what I now know to be a pre-steam power society. I honestly expected the settlement to be a dystopia ruled by a lord, where disease riddled the streets, and people were visibly malnourished. I guess dy luck still shows me favor somewhat.

  I quickly ate the rest of my food, had a final cup of water from the almost empty pot, and hid my cart underneath nearby bushes. I didn’t believe I’d stay in this town, at least in the long term. I had ambitions, and I didn’t want to be tied down to what is likely some feudal lord system. In the immortal words of dear thirty-five, democracy is not perfect, but we have never had to put up a wall to keep our people in.

  I slowly descended from my hiding spot on the hill and approached the two guards. They both froze before pointing their weapons at me and yelling something out. I didn’t understand what they were saying, so I stopped and tilted my head in a confused manner to convey my message while raising my hands slowly. It seemed to catch them off guard before one turned to the other, said something, and then ran off. Are they maybe trying to get someone who can tell who I am? Unlikely but possible.

  I waited patiently for about five minutes with my arms still upward. Just as it was getting painful to hold the form, the second guard returned with somebody in a mostly unblemished white robe. I forgot most people didn’t wear white in the past because it easily got stained. After all, things like detergent or bleach hadn’t been invented, or if they had, they weren’t in widespread use.

  The man with the robe gripped a piece of gss with a metal ring against his eye, and like that traveler from before, it fshed. The robed man turned to the guard, who still had his spear pointed at me, muttered a few words, and said guard lowered his spear. I don’t know what he said, and I don’t care. I just needed to get in without too much trouble. The white-robed man kneeled beside me and pced a hand on my shoulder. I knew this was some comforting gesture for children, but I still didn’t like it. It was only with my years-old political resolve that I didn’t outright yank his arm away and jump back—just a slight twitch.

  The man in white said a few more things to the guards before leading me inside the gates. I began to look around the town's main road. If this pce had a name, I’d need to learn it, preferably after I’ve learned the local nguage. But of course, what I noticed first was the handful of human-like individuals with animal ears and tails. From a rough count, I could see about eight or so sets of ears in a crowd of dozens. Maybe something like Beast Folk? People with a few animal traits, to be exact. Well, whatever they were called was irrelevant at this time.

  I prided myself on being accepting of everyone. Part of the reason I was so likable as a president. It didn’t matter race, gender, biological sex, sexual orientation, or even if they were a cat or dog person. Wait, strike that st part; it might be seen as offensive if there are literally cat or dog people in this world. But it boils down to this. Everyone has a value to them, whether that’s an economic, physical, or emotional value. Even if that value is only in emotional retion to one another, it is still value.

  I suddenly stopped in the middle of the road. The man who was guiding me looked a bit surprised. Why was I expositing myself so much? …Oh, right. Autism with Anxiety and ADHD. What a winning combination. Honestly, you would think I would have left those mental hoops behind with my other brain, but I guess some things always stick to the soul. Well, when in doubt, power through. I lightly tugged on the white-clothed man, and we resumed the trek.

  And soon enough, we reached what appeared to be a multi-story home. Curious. The robed man grabbed the knocker and hit it three times. It was at this moment that a sliver of childlike imagination took hold. Who was going to come to the door? A nun? A priest? Maybe the vilge leader? Okay, maybe not those st two, but still. However, I did not have to wait long as a woman wearing worn-out grey and brown clothes approached the door. She greeted the man with enthusiasm; maybe they were close friends. Or something more? Well, no time to question it. The dy looked down at me, some emotion passing through her face in a flinch, before she bent down and put a hand on my shoulder, smiling a blinding smile at me.

  (The Matron POV)

  “I understand. I’ll be happy to take in another.” I said to High Priest Maron, the highest church official in town. Although not so surprising. The only thing our town has going for it is its status as a rest stop in between a trade center and a mining town. Many come in, and many leave, but very few stay. So, we never needed an Arc Priest like one of the foremost cathedrals. Instead, we only had a single church that could house one hundred people, and that was it—eighty for the regur churchgoers and twenty for those in town who wanted to catch the service.

  I had to fight against my fear of demons, but I bent down to look the child in the eye, grasping his shoulder. He looked me straight in the eye with no hesitancy, and for a moment, I almost took a step back from that shock alone. That… is not the look of a child. Actually, I don’t know what kind of look that was. After many years of helping children, I could understand hidden feelings by looking somebody in the eye. This child showed no fear or hesitation, two common feelings in orphan children. I could only see a bnk mask.

  What did this child go through to act this way? I sighed before leading the child of demon descent inside. Hopefully, the other children won’t try to pick a fight with him while I tidy up a new bed. I gave the child a few wooden cards with images, tools I used for children with speech or hearing impairments and waved him off to explore before getting to work. I gathered a clean set of bedclothes, a thin bnket, and a small, soft headrest. I then made my way to the second-floor hallway corridor with the bedrooms on each side.

  I separated the bedrooms by gender—boys on the left side rooms and girls on the right. Three rooms on both sides, holding up to four children per room. In short, this orphanage was equipped to handle up to twenty-four orphan children at a given moment. Still, the current popution was only six, seven if you include the new child—a rather impressive low count for a vilge popution of nearly six hundred. And just a few months ago, it was eleven, and of the four who left, three aged out, two of which, a boy and a girl, went into the army, while the third, another boy, became a Guardsman. Sadly, the fourth of them, a girl, passed away at eleven years of age from Pneumonia. I buried her at the nearby cemetery, along with all the other children who passed under my care. I also periodically go there to clean off their graves to apologize for my failure. I’m supposed to be a mother figure, and I could not protect them as a mother should.

  I tried not to bring myself down, but I often wondered if my actions were correct. I couldn’t even have children and decided to be an orphan matron. Was this god’s way of saying that I should have never gotten involved? Maybe? Who knows. But what I do know is that I still have a job to do, and until my body can no longer do it, I shall care for children when their blood cannot or will not. I thought about those who died but also those who survived. I only pray that the seven I have under my current care live to see adulthood.

  The house currently had four boys and two girls, not including the new child. I guess he gets to have a personal room for now. Right before entering the second boy’s room, I grabbed some clean bed linings and noted the dust in the room. Nobody had been in here since Hareth moved out. It’s only acted as storage since then, so I needed to move the junk to the next empty room. I wiped down the small desk with my hand and pced the bed linings on said desk before turning and grabbing the first thing I could.

  It’s a lot of work for one person, but after an hour, the room was set up to safely house children. I do hope he likes it. On that thought, I probably should get him a name; it was condescending to call him “The Child.” I asked myself what a good name would be while I set his bed. It was a good question, and I did have ideas, but he’s old enough to choose for himself. I hope I can teach him enough so he can name himself. Maybe I can suggest them after I’ve taught him basic Zegen? That is if he doesn’t have a name already. He could already have a name. And here I am, rambling to myself again.

  I finished setting the bed before leaving the room to go to the py area. I instilled in the older children the value of watching young ones, which helped me throughout my day while I did chores. And how much trouble could a child get into just an hour after showing up? Of course, like with everything in life, it loves to prove you wrong.

  “FUCK!”

  I blinked. Did someone just..? I rushed to the py area to find a child leaning on the table, one foot in the air. And to my surprise, it was the red-headed child. He likely stubbed his toe based on his pained expression, but that could wait before being addressed. There were more pressing matters. To his muted surprise, I quickly picked him up and carried him to the kitchen, where I knew we’d have privacy. I put him down on an open chair, and he looked at me, confused. I smiled and started talking.

  “I was wondering how to name you, but this works just fine.” He looked at me, mouth agape. He could only say three words.

  “What the hell?!”

  (The Child’s POV)

  There was someone else in this world who spoke English! Did I break the luck meter or something? First, the odds that reincarnation was not just a one-off for me were high but not incredibly. Second, the odds that I run into a reincarnation were much lower, and third, the odds that they spoke English as well are astronomically lower than that. There were over eight thousand nguages, after all! This was an extraordinary set of circumstances.

  “You’re a reincarnation.” My words came out more like a statement than a question.

  She blinked for a moment. “I’m sorry, but no.” I defted a bit but didn’t- “My husband, on the other hand…”

  Oh, she’s good. She’s dangling what I wanted right in front of me as a lure. I could tell I’m going to have fun with this. “Well, I don’t suppose you can introduce me?” I asked in a posh tone.

  She smirked. “Oh, I’m sure I could, after he gets back from work, of course.”

  I tilted my head in agreement. “Of course, how silly of me.” Should I introduce myself? “My name in my past life was Aaron. I don’t have a name in this life, so it’ll have to do.”

  She nodded her head. “All right, well, you can call me Mrs. Zeneth, young man.” She said with a smile.

  Yeah, no, I wasn’t doing that—it’s time to pull the elder card. “I’m sorry, you don’t look a day over thirty-five, so it’d be very awkward for me to call YOU Mrs. as your elder. I did die in my te fifties, after all.” She blinked at me. Was that so surprising?

  It took her a minute to realize she was awkwardly staring at me. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to be so old,” she informed.

  I smirked. I immediately hunched over, hand on my back. “What’s that, you young whippersnapper? These ears of mine are failing me in my old age.” I said with squinting eyes and an old man’s voice. She snorted. Looks like I still have my comedic charm. Now, I had to wait for her husband to return.

  Zeneth invited me to stick around in her kitchen while waiting for her husband to return home from the fields. However, bored out of my mind, I suddenly got a wicked idea. “Hey, Zeneth?” I started.

  She looked up from the cookbook she borrowed from the local repository. From my earlier questioning, I learned that in most small towns, where literacy was high, but the cost of books was also high, a repository existed to allow people to borrow books, simir to a library. The only downside was that it was only one book per household, and if it were destroyed or damaged beyond repair, it would be out of your pocket to compensate, regardless of financial status. Some people have needed years to save enough money to repce the book. “Yes?” She questioned with a slight tone of suspicion.

  “How would you feel about pulling a prank on your husband when he gets back? A minor and innocent one?” I asked with a grin.

  She gave me a pointed look. “Not that I would be opposed, but are you sure you’re over fifty years old? That seems like a childish thing to do.”

  I whistled innocently. “I plead not guilty because of child hormones,” I said.

  Zeneth rolled her eyes. “That’s not a good excuse.”

  I shrugged, “Gotta have some fun somewhere.” Reasonable, no?

  “Why not read?” I gave her an eyebrow-raised stare, making her think about that question. “Right, dumb question. Can’t read the nguage.”

  She closed her cookbook and put it on the table beside her. “So, how does this prank work?” She asked.

  “I only need to ask one question for you to get it. Do you and your husband ever use English to communicate?” I questioned.

  Zeneth nodded. “Well, yes, but usually only in our home and if we don’t want children to listen in.” I could see the gears turning in her eyes before they widened, and she smiled. “Stick around after dinner, and I’ll talk to him. Won’t be hard, too; we use English to talk about adult matters.” She told me.

  I grinned, watching her go to the pantry to start fixing dinner.

  I walked to the pyroom with the children. It’s hard to include myself among their numbers, considering I’m at least three and a half times older. I peered in to see two of them pying with small wooden blocks that appeared to have rudimentary letters on them. One is off in the corner, napping on the floor, and beside her, another is writing on a piece of yellowed paper. A fifth, the apparent oldest, was petting the bck rabbit ears of the sixth, a pleasant look on the bck-haired rabbit kid’s face.

  I always sucked at telling if somebody was a boy or girl without obvious tells—basically, anything before puberty. And hair wasn’t a valid way to tell, as experience has taught me. It’s even more challenging with that rabbit hybrid, considering their few defining features are divided between feminine and masculine. The oldest looked at me and made a noise. I looked back for a minute before shrugging my shoulders and finding a retively warm part of the floor.

  I id on the ground and closed my eyes. I was successfully falling asleep for about two minutes before I was poked in the shoulder. I opened my eyes to see brown ones looking at me. It was one of the children who was pying with blocks. I waved at them before closing my eyes again. I was immediately poked again by the same child. I gave them a solid gre, something I picked up as a parent, and they backed off. I soon rexed enough to fall asleep.

  I was shaken awake and opened my eyes to meet Zeneth’s. She mouthed me the word “dinner” before taking her hand off. She turned around to the other children and said what I could only assume to be the equivalent of the word “dinner” in the local nguage. I pushed myself up and began to follow the others, feeling groggy.

  I entered the presumed dining room and found myself at the end of the table, next to the rabbit hybrid. I looked at the wooden bowls and cutlery and almost grimaced. It shouldn’t affect the taste too much, but it could. Zeneth walked in carrying a rge pot with rags acting as oven mitts for her hands. It was some type of stew, and the smell wasn’t bad.

  I turned my attention to the front of the table, where I guessed the husband sat. I raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Zeneth dolled out food. None of the others were eating yet. It might be a good idea to wait if the stew was as hot as it looked. Or it could be a manners thing, who knows? A man then walked into the dining room and spoke to Zeneth for a minute before sitting at the head of the table.

  I looked at the master of the house. He had a light brown beard and short hair, and his face had faint lines, almost like scars. Had he been attacked at some point in the past? He waved his hand and said a few more words, and the kids began to dig into the food slowly. I grabbed the utensil and scooped out a spoonful of stew with what I believed was a chunk of carrot. I lightly blew on it before eating the morsel.

  I was pleasantly surprised by the taste. It didn’t taste as good as food back home, but I could tell a few different vegetables and meat were present. When I was younger, I was always very picky. That habit followed me into young adulthood, and I lost it in my te twenties. However, I always retained the ability to pick out individual fvors and their origins.

  The children, save for the rabbit, ate quickly, asked for seconds, and then began to disappear. I almost shook my head in disappointment at the mess left behind. One of the things that I hate is leaving one’s used dishes behind for somebody else to pick up. I remember getting on the cases of my younger siblings and my children. I continued to eat slowly, getting used to having a full stomach. I’d rather not throw my food up because I rushed.

  I turned my head to watch as the rabbit kid pushed back their chair, stood up, and took their dishes into the kitchen before leaving the dining area. I finished the st few spoonfuls of food in my bowl, got up, and began collecting the messy children's dirty dishes.

  “Well, that’s surprising.” A male voice said. I looked at the man before tilting my head in a confused manner. That seemed to sell it to him as he picked back up talking. “He seems to be a well-mannered child willing to help out.” He said, speaking to Zeneth. She nodded.

  “Yes, it surprised me as well, but we should talk about him and what we should do.”

  I entered the kitchen and put the bowls in the giant wash pan. There was a small nozzle over the pan. Interesting, running water, but from the ck of an indoor bathroom, there is no proper sewer to drain into. I’ll have to ask ter if the pipes are made of a safe material and how water was pumped into the home. I turned the nozzle a bit, letting water drip out as I rinsed with my hands. Considering their smoothness, I could tell these bowls were well used. I looked across the countertop and found a small, well-used soap bar. My fellow reincarnation must have made it. Or another did; either way, I was grateful. I coated my hands and began to scrub the bowls.

  I spent a couple of minutes on each bowl before stacking them in a way that allowed them to dry. I dried my hands with a clean-looking rag before returning to the dining room. As I walked in, the man turned to me and said a few words I didn’t understand. Gncing beyond his shoulder, I could see Zeneth mouthing the word name.

  I grinned. “My name is Aaron, if that’s what you’re asking.” I waited a moment before cackling as his face morphed into pure shock. I could hear noises that I’m sure aren’t actual words come out of his throat. Was it that surprising?

  I could see Zeneth snickering as I composed myself correctly. “So, I’m new to this world, and I thought you could help me, right, senpai?” I flex my eyelids as Zeneth breaks out in total hysterics. Her husband looks even more shocked. It seems like Halgo told her about weeb culture.

  He pced his hand on the table and took a deep breath, rexing. “If you’re from the sun kingdom, I swear…” He started.

  I cut him off, “I’m fucking with you; what do you think?”

  He took another breath, trying to calm down. “Okay, so the newest resident here is a reincarnation. I can deal with that.” He mainly muttered to himself. “Well, my name is Halgo, at least in this life. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Arron.” He said, holding out his hand.

  I tentatively shook it, meeting his eyes. “So, how long have you been in this world?” I asked. I still sucked at telling people’s ages.

  “Thirty-three and a half years, give or take a few weeks. Calendars are hard to come by if you aren’t a church or a rich guy.” He smiled. “Well, you’ve been here all by yourself if your age was anything to go by. Maybe eight years?”

  I blinked and raised a brow. “No?” I said with a bit of a drawl. “It’s only been a few days for me.”

  He freezes momentarily before shock appears on his face. “Wait, so you weren’t reborn? You just popped up in this world?”

  I nodded. What was so shocking about that? “I appeared two days away beside a river in this body and buck naked. Is that not normal?” I asked, confused by his reaction.

  He shook his head in disbelief. “No, the one other reincarnation in this world that I’m acquainted with was born into a new body like me. We didn’t just suddenly possess people.”

  I blinked, and my face twisted while I thought. If that wasn’t the norm, it’d probably attract attention to me, so it’s probably best to keep this close to the chest. “If it is as impossible as you cim, then can you both not share those details with others?”

  Halgo and Zeneth gnced at each other. “I don’t think you’ll have any issues with us sharing that.” They said.

  I looked at them with greater confusion. “Why is that?”

  “Because the One God’s church has ordered the death of any confirmed reincarnations, considering them bsphemous and enemies of their religion.” It went unsaid that Halgo also would be killed simply for being a reincarnation, even if he sold me out.

  “Well, that puts a damper on things,” I muttered.