Reincarnated As A Peasant

Chapter 6: Foundations Of Physical Strength

Landar

The next day, I sat on my fathers shoulders as we walked to his work. I had been brought along for two reasons. First, Id stop bothering my mother and sister with constant questions while they prepared for my sisters coming of age ceremony next month.

Second, I needed to learn to read and write. And father and mother didnt feel up to the task.

I sat on his shoulders as we walked. His club swung from his hip, while his spear was held aloft in the crook of his arm so the tip couldnt accidentally harm anyone else.

Father? I asked, and he sighed.

And it was such a nice quiet walk. He whispered to himself. I couldnt help but smirk. I remembered what having a toddler with seemingly endless questions felt like. And I was determined to ensure by the end of my time as a child, they had thoroughly learned from the experience. Yes son? What is it?

I want a beast core. Can you get me one? Preferably two if you can find them. I need to learn to use the first one, and the second one will allow me to experiment and

My fathers shoulders shook as I felt his entire body rumble under me. Whats so funny? I asked as Tomas shook his head.

Beast cores, huh? And why do you think Id be able to get you one of those, let alone two?

Well, you work at the gate, right? You fight monsters and things all the time.

Thats right, I fight them. And usually just scare them off. Rarely do we kill anything that comes up to the gate uninvited, let alone monsters strong enough to have cores in them.

Mother Margaret says that even weak monsters have cores in them.

He shook his head again. Shes right, but even a weak monster is a challenge for me. I usually deal with bears, moose, and other creatures that wander in close because they like the smell of the city.

Oh. That took me by surprise. I had assumed from the way he described his job that he fought monsters regularly. I guess Tomas in this world isnt opposed to a little white lie to make themselves look better in the eyes of their sons, I thought as I wondered how I could get my hands on two or more monster cores.

Well, dont sound too disappointed. One day, youll be strong enough to go hunting for monsters on your own. Or perhaps youll get lucky and stumble across a few when youre out gathering firewood with the other kids once youre strong enough.

That happens?

Yeah, though not very often. Young children regularly go out into the local woods to scavenge for food, firewood, or do a bit of hunting while their parents are out working. Tabitha usually goes afternoon, when your mother does her potion making.

Potion making? I asked, startled. Mom makes what?

You havent noticed? Well, I suppose you wouldnt. You usually sleep through the first half of the afternoon being so weak, and before that you were bedridden. So I guess that makes sense. Your mother was given a recipe for some weak health potions from Mother Margaret and she brews them every few days to fulfill orders for the sick or wounded in town.

Health potions? Arent those expensive?

The normal strength ones are, us guards get two or three a month just in case something happens.

I continued asking questions of my father, and I learned a lot. Like the fact that my mothers brewing was what she did in exchange for Mother Margerets help in saving me from the fevers. And that my father sold his degraded Normal strength health potions at the end of the month once theyve degraded down to Weak status.

A Normal strength health potion would heal most wounds. Got a bad cut on your arm from chopping wood and being stupid? Drink a normal strength health potion and itll cure you right up. Meanwhile Weak strength health potions only healed things like splinters, or bad paper-cuts, that kind of thing.

They were only really useful to craftsmen who endured many minor wounds during their work, and still needed to do it again the next day. Dad usually sold his stock to a smith friend of his, who was also a member of the Reserve City Guard. Basically, a group of civilian militia, from the sounds of it. But the man sounded like he knew his trade. He made the weapons and ironwork for the guard whenever they needed, at cost.

When I asked if that privilege extended to family members, my father chuckled and said yes, yes it did. But dont abuse it, Landar. Ulgin is a good man, but he doesnt suffer fools or children well.

Eventually we got to the southern gate, where my father was stationed. He was the captain of the gatehouse. When I pointed to another gate, I saw a few streets down, he explained. Yes, there are other gates. But those are mainly used for cargo, or for goods to leave the city. There are only four gates where people are allowed to enter. And those are the most dangerous. Your old man is captain of one this one.

The gate house was larger than the others, at nearly four stories tall. The gate itself was raised to about twice the height of a man. It was made of thick metal beams. Itd take a few pounds of C-4 to break that thing open, I thought as we passed under it.

I was surprised to find out it was not the only such defense. When I looked directly up at my fathers instruction, I found a massive block of stone being held up by counterweights, connected by thick corded ropes larger around then I was. If ever someone tries to attack the city, we first close that gate. He pointed towards the metal grate that was now behind us. Then, once their army is lured in, we drop that thing on their heads. My dad chuckled menacingly. Then we drop the second grate. he pointed out another metal grate at the far end of the gatehouse. This one was lifted all the way up, and I could tell didnt see regular use.

Interesting. So you trick them into attacking the inner grate. Knowing its heavy and will probably take siege equipment to break, they make something like a heavy battering ram and bring it in. That takes a lot of manpower, so and probably some of their top engineers and siege works people, depending on how powerful the ram has to be. I said, pointing to the various places I was talking about.

Then once theyre lured in, you drop thatmountain on them. Depriving the enemy of both an easy way to get in, a few days, at the least of planning, and some of their best on the ground siege engineers. Again, depending on how successful the defense efforts elsewhere were, as well as how stupid the enemy is. Its rather smart. The best part is, those murder holes that line the top allow you to shoot at them as they come in, making it seem more like a real defense effort rather than a trap, and it has the added bonus of keeping them from looking up and realizing its a trap. Still, you might want to try to cover the dropping mechanism so its not so obvious. A trained engineer, who looked up, would realize its a trap pretty quickly unless

I realized my father had stopped at the entrance into a small guardhouse near the outside of the wall. He had frozen on the precipice of the doorway, and was looking over at the expression of the two guards who were on duty.

Both of them looked shocked and were staring straight at me.

Men, this is my son. Landar.

The sickly one, sir?

Just so. His body was weak now, but the Gods saw fit to bless him with a mind as keen as an adults and a wit as sharp as a knifes edge.

Sir, permission to speak freely, sir?

Yes, private Drake.

Did you bring him here to assess the defenses, sir? My fathers shoulders shook slightly with laughter, but his voice was steady as a rock when he responded.

No. But I agree with his assessment. We need to disguise those mechanisms. Have Reech and someone from the builders guild in my office by noon.

The two men saluted, and we entered the small guardhouse. He took me off his shoulders as a spindly man wearing the same uniform as my father and the other guards met us. Oswald, how are things today?

Rotations are on spot, sir. No absences or injuries. We did have another sighting of those wolves, though. The skinny man said as he read from a set of notes he held on a wooden chalk tablet. It was how most people kept temporary notes. Paper and parchment were very expensive. But a green stone slate and some chalk were as cheap as they came.

Hmmm. I may have to lead a hunting party for them. Were there anything unusual reported about the creatures?

Yes sir. One of the travelers said that he thought he saw frost coming from the mouth of the alpha wolf who was standing behind the rest of the pack. But it was too dark this morning to tell for sure.

That matches up with what Private Kerga said last week. It might be a wolf whose evolved a primitive core.

My ears burned at the mention of a core.

Inform the knights watch. We may need their help on the hunt.

Yes sir. And who might I ask is this, sir?

Oh, this is my boy Landar. The man stared at me and blinked a few times before breaking into a smile. Hes come to train today.

Train sir? No offense sir, Landar, but I dont think hell be able to keep up with the recruits at this mornings run. Let alone the rest of the training. Sir.

Cardio had always sucked. Im a big guy, and one thing all big guys hate, even when were fit, is cardio. But then again, Im not big anymore, right? Maybe it wont be so bad.

No no. You misunderstand me. Hell be following you around this morning, learning your clerical duties. After lunch, Ill figure something else out for him. But hes built up his stamina enough he can stay awake for the whole day now, so we need to start work on the other parts of his foundations.

Oh. I see, sir. Hes trying to make up for some lost time.

Right. And were starting out by having him follow you around. Just walking, listening, and learning. Thats it. Tomas turned a stern gaze down on me. Dont bother Oswald with incessant questioning, Landar. He has important work to do. Pick up what you can, and hell answer questions later. Let the man work.

I nodded. I could respect that the man had work to do. I had been hoping for formalized lessons, but on-the-job training in reading, writing, and numbers would do just fine for now. Yes, father. He smiled and ruffled my hair with a massive palm that nearly suffocated me.

Thats my boy.

Ill do my best, sir. Oswald bowed slightly and saluted. He was young, but I could tell he was pretty smart from the way he talked and held himself. This man might be able to fight, but hes an egg head at heart. I like him already.

My father left me and Oswald alone in his office. There were two desks, my fathers desk, which was basically just an old table nailed together and placed in a corner, and Oswalds desk. Which was of much sturdier make, and was strewn with scrolls and slates.

These are the accounts. Im almost done with this months payroll. Next, Ill be doing the equipment requests for new health potions from the city armory. Oswald pulled my fathers seat over to his desk and helped me into it. I had to practically stand to see what the man was talking about, even with my fathers chair being built for his massive frame. Theyre pretty routine. Do you know your numbers yet?

I shook my head. Not well.

Thats fine. Well review them as we do the forms.

The number system in this world was like back home. A ten base pair system that allowed for easy addition and subtraction. It only took me about an hour to get the hang of the numbering system. It was all very blocky, and the numbers were very distinct from one another, unlike the more flowing curved numbers commonly used back on Earth in the Arabic numerals.

These almost looked like runes. Each one used sharp angles and after a familiarizing myself with them I realized that each number up to ten had the given number of lines as the number it represented. One, for instance, was a straight line. Two looked like an unfinished A, and three looked like a tiny house and so on, with Zero being represented by a bold and visible dot.

I watched him fill out the requisition order forms and by the time he was done with all twenty-five of them; I had the numbering system down well enough to learn how these people notated math.

That was a much more difficult endeavor. I asked a couple of simple questions and soon found that easy notation didnt exist in this world. Instead, it was all done by writing it down on a slate, and actually counting the numbers together.

When I showed him an idea I had about using the addition system, he beamed at me. That is a noble trick. Ive learned it, which is why Im able to do this so fast on most days. I didnt think you needed to learn that though, as this method, he tapped the slate where he had been counting them out loud as he went, is used by most commoners. It seems young Landar, your father was right. You are quiet bright. Here, let me show you.

He showed me the notation methods for addition and subtraction. It wasnt that different. Math is math after all. We worked on several more requisition forms, a new club for my father, a new spear to replace one that had broken during training, and a few other random items.

Then Oswald had us work on a summary of the requested items along with a totalling of their cost and value. When he was nearly finished, I had to stop him. Im sorry Oswald sir, but it looks like you got one wrong there. I pointed out his mistake. He had forgotten to write the seven out completely and it looked like a five.

He double checked the figured and make the correction before finishing the work. Thank you for catching that. Your father would have eaten me alive if I had been the reason some of our people got issued weak as opposed to normal health potions this month.

So, what next? I asked as he filed the parchment into a large folder and sent it off with a messenger who had been waiting for us to finish.

Lets see, we have about two hours left. We finished that faster than I had suspected we would. How about we work on the alphabet?

We spent the next two hours writing the different letters of the alphabet on green slate tiles with chalk. The written language, much like the numbers system, was blocky and simple. It reminded me of fantasy dwarf languages. When I asked about its origins, Oswald perked up.

That is an interesting history lesson most people never learn, or even think to ask about.

So do you know?

The kingdoms writing and numbering system originated in the mountains to our west, in the Wild Lands. From the time before the kingdom was founded. Both the mathematical and alphabetical notations Ive shown you are considered holy and part of the Mothers domain. Do you know the founding story Landar? I shook my head.

Well then, your question makes sense now. The official story is we started out as a bunch of villages along the wild lands border and grew up from there. Those villages never could grow beyond a certain point as enemies around us, from wild beasts to savage elven tribes regularly attacked us. It wasnt until the worshipers of the Father arrived that we had enough strength to build something worthy of the Mothers gifts and graces. But many believe that the true history is far more interesting.

He was about to explain, but a knock came to the door, followed by my father gently trying to squeeze himself into the office.

How are things going in here?

Good sir. Your son is exactly as you described him. Exceptionally bright.

Tomas beamed proudly, and then I noticed a mischievous tilt to his smirk and my heart sank slightly.

Thats good. Youre all well and rested then, Landar? I nodded. Alright, well, its lunch and then I have a special project for you.

***

Lunch consisted of a hearty meat stew. While the other recruits, guards, and my father wolfed theirs down in seconds, an impressive display even for a soldier, I had to take my time. Even taking things slow I wasnt able to finish the massive bowl of meat, potatos, and the small yet heavy loaf of bread that came with it.

When I was as full as I could be without getting sick, I pushed the bowl away towards my father, who took it with a predatory grin. It was gone before I could blink.

Alright, follow me. Tomas got up from the cafeteria table and I followed. We wound our way through several passages towards what I was guessing was the inner part of the wall.

We came to a large set of double wooden doors treated with some kind of black tar laqure that had dried to provide a protective coating on the wood. Tomas turned and stared down at me. I was already sweating from the walk. Just keeping up with the giant had been a tedious task, and my leg muscles burned.

My father looked uncomfortable for a moment before bending down to one knee and placing a hand on my shoulder. Son, I I dont. How do I put this? Im used to telling recruits they need to keep working, no matter how hot it is, no matter how tired they get, or thirsty they feel. They keep working until the work is done and we can rest as a team.

The soldier in me, that young twenty something grunt who had slogged his way through Afghanistans back country back on Earth, resonated with the words. The frail child, on the other hand, quailed, and I felt myself torn between fear for my life and fear of disappointing my father.

But that is not the advice I can or will give you today. The exact opposite actually. When you feel tired, rest. If you get overly hot, leave. Drink some water, and then come back. If you feel you cant do more, then stop. Youre too frail to work like a soldier.

Again, Tomas had a pained expression on his face. Like he knew this wasnt a good idea, but he didnt have any other option. But I cant think of anything else. People only get stronger by working their bodies hard, pushing themselves to their limit.

But my limit is very small. I said, smiling up at my father as best I could. Inside, I wanted to scream. I hated being trapped in a body that could barely walk next to a grown adult, let alone do actual labor.

He ruffled my hair and smiled at me gratefully. Thats right. But if you work hard, youll be strong enough to join the recruits and train with them. Well get your physical foundations back up to snuff. Now, follow me. And touch nothing or youll likely get burned.

The double doors opened, and a wave of dry heat hit me like a physical force. I nearly staggered, but forced myself to stay standing. My father went in and I follow.

The heat was oppressive, and the ring of metal on metal filled my ears like needles. I winced at each strike as I tried to keep up. We wove through several storage areas until we came to a covered work site that was half exposed to the outside. There, a massive man with a belly probably as large as I was who was, was striking a small black hammer down onto an even smaller piece of worked metal.

Hold on, almost done. The man yelled over the crackling fire and the bustle of people outside. The voices of hagglers talking to merchants were easily ignored as I watched the man work. Each strike down on the small circle did something, shaped the metal in a different way. After each strike, he lifted the metal up to examine it, and then placed it down again for another light hammer fall.

Eventually the smith nodded to himself and drenched the rapidly cooling metal in salt water. Then placed it on a workbench to finish cooling. Thats Count Tarlimins last horse shoe. His mare will be happy when the farrier comes to pick it up.

The smith carefully took off his gloves, took his tools and gently placed them on another work bench. Almost as quick as he did, a tall skinny young man rushed forward and started cleaning the tools and treating them with various oils and things I didnt quite understand.

Is this the runt you want to saddle me with, Tomas?

My father reached a hand out, and the two men grabbed wrists for a moment. Yes. Hes not got a lot of strength or stamina yet. But hes a hard worker. I felt a swelling of pride at my fathers words. My own father back on Earth hadnt been so free with the praise. He had been a good man, but quiet. He showed his love through service to us kids. Not with hugs or affection. A stark contrast to my worldly mother.

Tomass style was very different.

Alright well, I heard what you told me about his weakness, and I think I have a job he can do. The large smith pointed towards a pile of coal. Can you use a shovel, boy?

I looked at the shovel by the coal pile and realized it was larger than me. I shook my head.

Thats alright. Ill be working on iron today. Wont take too much coal, but will take a steady supply of it. You can pick up one piece at a time if you have to. Just keep it going. He pointed at a coal shoot that fed into the furnace he had been using to keep the metal he was working on hot. Can you do that?

I think so. How long?

The large smith shrugged. Two hours. One piece of coal every few heartbeats. I just need to finish up this set of travel pots for some merchant friends of mine.

I nodded. Yes sir, I think I can do it.

Alright, lets see what youve got. I walked over to the coal pile and picked up several small pieces, putting them in the crook of one arm and then headed over to the coal shoot. I then fed the first piece into it.

A wave of heat blasted out of the feeder. I could tell that a grown man would barely have felt it, but to me it felt like I had just dodged a blow torch. A few seconds later, I fed in another and the smith nodded.

Good, lets get to work. He picked up his hammer and started back towards his work station.

I turned around and went to get more coal. By the third load of coal, my arms hurt, legs ached, and back started spasming a little. I had to sit down and rest. When I did, a tall lanky teenager appeared and picked up where I left off, giving me a gratified glance as he did.

At some point, my father left. I wasnt sure exactly when. Probably somewhere around the sixth or seventh load I carried to the furnace. After every third arm full, I needed a short break where the other man took over. But I did my best to avoid resting too long.

About the fourth break I was forced to take, the other teenager who I learned was the smiths apprentice and son, brought me some water, which I drank greedily.

Are you alright, kid? The apprentice asked me as I nearly collapsed about an hour later.

Yeah, Im okay. Just everything hurts. I laughed, and he joined me.

Pain is the foundation of strength. He said it like it was some kind of common saying. Id never heard it before, but it was very similar to something my drill sergeants had said all the time.

No pain, no gain, so run your ass off private, or itll get shot off!

Drill sergeants arent known for their kind words and gentle instruction.

I needed a full ten minutes to recover before I was able to stand and take another load. At one point I found a basket, and started filling it, and dragging it over the ground. It was harder, but the time between carrys was longer, allowing me to recover more.

Time passed at a snails pace, and I felt like the torture would never end. But I didnt give up. I kept going, taking my fathers advice and resting as much as I felt my body needed. But I always got back up and started working again.

Eventually, the sharpening grinding noises, and the hammer falls in the forge stopped. A hand rested on my shoulder, and I looked up from where I was trying to push my basket across the floor.

You did good, boy. It was the smith. Come, lets get you cleaned up. I sagged slightly as I let go of the basket and felt my entire frame ache. Dont worry, therell be more work tomorrow. I groaned and an evil glint appeared in the older smiths eyes.

***

I was a walking zombie. Thats the best way I could describe that first walk home after a days work with my father. I dont remember getting home, but I remember powerful hands picking me up and tucking me in tightly into bed.

When I woke up next, my stomach ached and grumbled, sounding more like a bears growl than a boys stomach. My mother informed me I had slept almost the entire night, and most of the next day. My body felt mostly recovered, but I was still bone tired.

Tomas got home a few hours after I woke up. He told me wed do it again tomorrow, after I got a good nights rest, and as much food as I wanted to eat.

We feasted that night, both in celebration of my sisters soon to be coming of age ceremony, and my own accomplishments. The feast wasnt extravogent, but there were sweet roll pasteries which were a rare treat.

The next day, work went very much the same as it had that first day. And I was only slightly less tired on the walk home. I ended up sleeping through the next day, again, and my parents had Mother Margeret brought in to check on my health.

She stared at me through the small metal rimmed glass and chuckled. Youre almost there boy, keep pushing like this and youll be at a Normal stage physical foundation in, oh, maybe a month. She proclaimed me perfectly healthy, just exhausted, and encouraged my parents to keep allowing me to do whatever it was I was doing. His foundations have never been healthier.

And so we settled into a routine for nearly a month. Id accompany my father to work, working with Oswald in the morning, then working at the forge doing basic simple labor in the afternoon. The next day I would rest, and wed repeat.

Every seventh day wed go to what I started thinking of as mass and I emptied myself of the mana, before it started poisoning me again.

By the end of the month, I was stronger, healthier, and I even had a little muscle tone. Which I flexed and showed off to my mother and sister. They giggled and oowed and awed over me. My mother proclaiming me her little hero. I didnt want treated like a kid, I just wanted to celebrate. But parents and siblings are going to do what they do, I suppose. Who was I to deprive them of that just because of my pride? These were good people after all.

Until one day, near the end of the month just a few days from Tabithas coming of Age ceremony, I woke up, my body burning all over. I cried out and my mother woke and turned on our small oil lamp.

My body was red from head to toe. Sweat and grime coated me despite having already taken a shower that night. The best way I can describe it is the worst possible sunburn I had ever experienced, mixed with muscle fatigue, and a hunger that Id only felt after marching for three days on quarter rations.

In short, I was miserable.

Until it ended, and I lay there covered in grime and awful.

My mother helped me stand, and I realized the world wasnt, it wasnt as large as it had been before. I was still a child, but I was taller now. The right height for a teen rather than the size of a ten year old.

Tabitha, Mother, and I sat at the table as I ate every piece of stale bread and dried jerky we had in our pantry. I was like a black hole. After I took a shower, and got cleaned up, my mother hugged me as tightly as she could.

Im so proud of you!

Tabitha took a turn after she released me. Your hard work is paying off, little brother, she said, and I found tears running down her smiling face as she looked at me.

What happened? Was all I could think to ask.

Your foundation. Its healed. Finally! Wait till your father hears about this!

***

I didnt have to wait long. Only about an hour later Tomas arrived and set about his nightly routine. He had taken back to the night shift on those days I couldnt come with him, and so his sleep schedule was constantly in flux.

A good soldier can sleep anywhere, anytime, I thought, remembering another saying the drill sergeants burned into my brain in basic. And my dad is a good soldier. That realization filled me with pride as I hid in the bedroom, waiting for my mother and sister to greet Tomas.

They cooked him a full meal: bread, cheese, and freshly cooked meat stew. This is great love, but why? he asked, confused. It's late, you two should be in bed.

This isnt just for you. Mother chided him. A growing boy needs to eat too, you know.

That was my cue. I opened the door and walked out. I had grown nearly a foot and a half. I reached to Tomass belly now, rather than his waist.

His eyes went wide as he saw me, and as quick as lightning, he had me wrapped in a hug. All your hard work is paying off, my boy!

I wont confirm if he cried or not.

He did. But just dont tell anyone.

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