Chapter 2: Three Years

  She looked across the street. The sun was high in the sky, the clouds were sparse, and her homeschooling was over for today. Today, was great. At three years of age, Vistilia acted much older than she had any right to.

  Many didn’t know what to make of this. Only her family had any true idea on what the true reason was. Though, their perception of it was slightly skewed. She was Vraelin, Death Touched. To both her mother and father, she had been granted wisdom beyond what others could believe.

  To herself, she simply had a good memory. Of course, that was somewhat of a sarcastic idea. She had memories of her past life, one could call her a reincarnation. At three years old, she had started walking and talking. Running around the house as if she owned it to try and gain some power over herself.

  ‘Power,’ she thought, the word lingered in her mind.

  She had many hours to simply think to herself. She couldn’t very well talk about all the ideas that she had with her parents. So, she simply thought things, with herself. Right now, she was thinking about what to do outside.

  She loved this life, other than the ck of toilet paper, she loved it. This new life of hers was strange, at least to her. One would have thought that she would have reincarnated in a world of magic and swords. After all, that was where most books went with their plots. Maybe even a fallen advanced civilization?

  ‘That’ a thought,’ she thought to herself, looking up to the sky that lingered outside of the view of her house, ‘I’m pretty sure that there aren’t any other civilizations before this one in this world,’ she thought.

  It was true. She had done her research. By that, she means that she simply asked her parents about it. It was truly strange, to live in a world such as this one. There was no true history of the world yet.

  The armor that the guards wore was made of brass. The spears were made of brass as well. The walls made of stone were carved, or made of a bootleg and cheaper version of concrete. The wooden floors, while smoothened, were primitive. She truly lived in a world of bronze and brass.

  Sure, there were iron tools and such. Yet, it was as expensive as it could be. The people here did not know how to make the right metals and where to apply them. Her father had an iron hammer he used in combat. It was a simple looking thing. Yet it was heavy.

  Vistilia stepped down the front steps of her home. The sun beating down on her pale skin like, well how light beats down on pale skin. The road was a simple, yet ridge thing. The carved stones well worn and semi-cracked as walked on top of them.

  Her own house was on one of the side streets, that connected to the main street. Across the street from her own house, was the dwelling of another child older than her. Aivan, son of Largus, who was also a man named the son of a Largus, was a boy of seven years old.

  Yes, while much older than her, she suspected that he had some sort of learning disability. Because of this, he had a bit less knowledge when it came to interacting with others.

  Her parents often told her to make friends with the other children of city. Yet they stayed away from the both of them. So, she was fine with him as her only friend. It was nice, at least in a peace of mind sort of way, that she only really had to deal with the thoughts of one seven-year-old.

  The house he lived in wasn’t much like her own. The building itself was made of wood, with a thatch roof, and a beaten cy floor. While it was wider and had a higher roof. It did not have a second floor, unlike her own home. Aivan had outwardly said, many a time, that he was jealous of her stone house.

  She knocked on the door, careful not to open it as the lock had broken the day before. It was then that she heard the boy himself walk up to the door. It creaked open as she caught a glimpse of the boy himself.

  His dark hair, bck colored eyes, and slightly pale skin from ck of proper eating, was the first things that her mind saw. His goofy grin was the second, and he hopped up and down on the tips of his bare feet as he saw her. He had been waiting for her for the whole day.

  “Hello Aivan, want to go py in the cy pit?” the girl, knowing he already wished to.

  The boy simply nodded his head, and made to grab her very small hand. Yet he was stopped by a voice. The voice belonged to his mother, Thaia. The two of them turned to look inside the building. It was light inside, with a window near the edge of the roof on the back wall.

  The woman herself was round, if one could call her that, while having a 21st century set of sensibilities when it came to weight. Her hair was dark, her skin was tan. She, in all honesty, could pass for a native American, yet that was simply what the people of this nd looked like.

  “Wait, you two goofy kids. Wait for a second while I get this basket,” she called out as Aiven winced.

  He had undoubtedly, completely and utterly forgotten about the reason why he was getting to py in the cy pit, nearest their home. His own family was poor and didn’t have any copper pots, unlike her own. So, they needed to make pots every week as they broke a lot.

  “Alright mother,” he said as he pulled Vistilia aside and made sure that they weren’t blocking the woman’s path.

  As she walked out of the building, she looked down at the little three-year-old, and hummed in contemption. She had always found it strange and a bit aerie, the little girl of Leris. She had always a bnk look upon her face.

  “Alrighty, let’s go and gather some gunk,” the older woman said while grabbing the hand of her son, while he held Vistilia’s hand.

  She looked down the sunlit street. It was the first day of the week, for most people, it was cleaning day. That meant that the streets were bare of most people or carriages.

  As Vistilia heard Aivan start to speak once more, she let it roll over her. Her own mind moving back to the world she found herself in. Power was something that was in spades here. War was common, at east that was what her father had said.

  The people to the north, and the sver city states to the south brought in death and pain to many. War was common, and so was the powerful. As she thought things like this along these lines, a smile came to her face. She hated war, But she loved cushy jobs, maybe she would join the guard or something.

  …