Chương 12: The First Book of His Second Life

Sieghart's grandparents rarely needed to leave the farm. Merchants arrived in wagons whenever the harvest was ready. They weighed the crops, inspected their quality, and loaded everything directly from the farm's storehouses. Some purchased food for shops in town, while others transported it to larger cities. That arrangement saved everyone time. Edric and Elara didn't need to organize transportation, and the merchants could collect goods from several farms during the same journey.

Payment was delivered immediately or within a few days, depending on the buyer. Most of the farm's supplies arrived in a similar way. The same wagons that collected crops often carried salt, oil, tools, cloth, and other necessities from town. As long as Edric placed his orders in advance, there was little reason for either of Sieghart's grandparents to leave the property. There were days off once in a blue moon.

When the fields needed no urgent attention and some temporary workers could manage the remaining duties, Elara and Edric stayed inside, rested, and spent more time with Sieghart. Those days had become slightly more frequent since he began helping with magic, though his grandparents still struggled to remain idle. Edric always found a fence that needed repairing. Elara always discovered something that needed cleaning. Apparently, relaxation was another skill that required training. Their trip to town was different.

A carriage arrived shortly after breakfast the next morning. It wasn't the enclosed black carriage that had brought Sieghart from the Emberhart estate. This one was smaller, with a plain wooden body and enough space for four passengers. The driver greeted Edric by name and helped secure several empty baskets behind the seats. That made the journey look ordinary. Sieghart still felt uneasy. He stood beside the carriage while Elara adjusted the collar of his shirt.

His grandparents had dressed him in some of his better clothes, a dark tunic, comfortable trousers, and short leather boots. They hadn't explained why appearances mattered for a simple shopping trip. Perhaps they simply didn't want him arriving in town covered in mud. That was reasonable. Sieghart's suspicion wasn't always reasonable. Once they were seated, the carriage began traveling along the road that led away from the farm.

Sieghart watched the fields pass through the window, but his thoughts remained fixed on the destination. The same town. He had spent the first year of his new life near it. Sieghart didn't want to see his parents. He didn't want to meet his younger sibling either. He held no anger toward the child. The other kid hadn't chosen to be born as Sieghart's replacement and wasn't responsible for their parents' treatment of him. Hopefully, the child was healthy.

Hopefully, they possessed strong aura channels, impressive physical potential, and every quality House Emberhart expected from an heir. If the second child fulfilled those expectations, Sieghart's parents would have no reason to look for him. That would be best for everyone. The new heir could grow up carrying the family name, wearing dramatic red-and-black armor, and competing with other children over who could punch a tree harder. Sieghart wanted no part of it.

He was tired of living beneath other people's expectations. His first parents expected him to enter college on his first attempt because his cousins had succeeded. His second parents expected their first son to inherit their strength before he could even understand what strength meant. He had failed both groups. Now he wanted to decide what success looked like for himself. The carriage struck a shallow hole, pulling Sieghart from his thoughts. Elara steadied him with one arm.

"We are going to purchase a few things for the house," she explained.

"There are also some tools your grandfather wants to examine." Edric grunted.

"Examine first. Purchase only if the price is reasonable."

"You say that every time."

"Because merchants raise their prices every time." Elara ignored him and looked at Sieghart.

"If you see something you want, you can ask for it." Sieghart blinked.

"I don't need anything."

"That is not what I said." Elara's tone was gentle but firm.

"The crops from our last harvest were excellent. Better than we expected. Thanks to your help, we have some extra money to spend." Sieghart looked toward the passing fields. His magic had increased the size and quality of the harvest. He watered the crops consistently, improved the soil, and allowed his grandparents to focus on problems that required experience rather than raw mana. The extra money existed partly because of him. That still didn't make spending it easy. His grandparents were in their mid-fifties.

They appeared healthy, especially by the standards of Earth, and both remained strong enough to work long days. Magic and physical labor had kept them in excellent condition. Even so, Sieghart didn't want to sponge off them. They had already given him a home, food, clothes, and more affection than he expected to receive in his second life. Asking for unnecessary gifts felt greedy. Then again, refusing everything might make them feel worse.

"Okay," Sieghart said. Elara smiled. Sieghart hadn't promised to ask for anything. If he did find something, he would choose something cheap and practical. Perhaps toilet paper. One could dream. The farmhouse used cloth, water, and a ceramic container that Sieghart did his best not to think about. The arrangement was more hygienic than some of the historical alternatives he knew about, but modern toilet paper remained one of civilization's greatest achievements. Infinite mana was wonderful.

Indoor plumbing would have been better. The carriage joined a wider road as it approached town. More travelers appeared around them: farmers guiding wagons, merchants carrying bundles, armed men riding horses, and families walking between nearby villages. Stone walls became visible beyond the hills. The town was larger than Sieghart remembered. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. His only previous view had come through a carriage window when he was one year old.

He recalled fragments, stone buildings, busy streets, and people moving around, but his vision and understanding had been limited. Now he could appreciate the details. The outer wall was tall enough to discourage ordinary bandits but not built to withstand a massive siege. Two square towers guarded the main gate, where soldiers examined incoming wagons without delaying traffic unnecessarily. The guards wore practical leather-and-metal armor rather than House Emberhart's distinctive red and black.

Spears rested against the gatehouse wall, while short swords hung from their belts. One guard recognized Edric.

"Morning. Bringing the family today?"

"For once," Edric replied. The guard leaned toward the window and noticed Sieghart. His eyes remained fixed on him for a little too long. Then he stepped back.

"Enjoy your visit." The carriage entered the town. The place looked much as Sieghart remembered, though everything seemed clearer and more colorful than the blurry impressions from infancy. Stone buildings lined the main road, most standing two or three floors high. Wooden signs hung above shop entrances, displaying painted symbols for customers who couldn't read. A loaf marked a bakery. A hammer indicated a smithy. A green bottle represented an alchemist. The streets were paved and surprisingly clean.

Narrow drainage channels ran along both sides, carrying dirty water away from the busiest areas. People crossed between shops, called greetings to one another, and argued over prices at open-air stalls. The town felt alive. Blacksmiths hammered metal inside open workshops. Bakers displayed fresh loaves near their windows. Merchants sold vegetables, dried meat, herbs, fabric, tools, and magical stones from covered stands. Sieghart noticed several weapons shops. Swords filled their displays. Of course they did.

He had been reincarnated in a world apparently ruled by people who believed every problem could be solved with sufficient steel and upper-body strength. The carriage stopped beside a public stable. Edric paid the driver and arranged for him to return in the late afternoon. Once the baskets were unloaded, Elara took Sieghart's left hand while Edric held his right. Sieghart looked at them.

"I can walk."

"We know," Elara replied. She didn't release him. Apparently, holding hands was less about his ability to walk and more about preventing him from disappearing into the crowd. Sieghart accepted the precaution. They began moving through the market. People noticed him. Some looked only briefly before returning to their business. Others stared openly. A few whispered to companions after his family passed. Shopkeepers recognized Edric and Elara, but their attention quickly shifted toward the child walking between them.

Perhaps they knew who Sieghart was. House Emberhart was important in the region, and rumors about the family's first heir had probably spread. A noble child born without aura channels would provide enough gossip to entertain people for years. He had disappeared from public view for two years. Now he had returned while holding the hands of his maternal grandparents. There would be questions. Still, Sieghart's identity might not be the only reason for the attention. His appearance was unusual.

He had seen himself in mirrors several times, though the farmhouse possessed only two and neither was particularly large. He also caught his reflection in buckets and irrigation channels whenever the water remained still. Sieghart wasn't ugly. He was rather fortunate in that regard. His face resembled his mother's, while the color of his eyes came from his father. If nothing strange happened during puberty, he would probably grow into his features well. His hair was the problem. Most of it had become crimson red.

Not the ordinary reddish-brown found on Earth, but a vivid shade resembling the brighter sections of his father's armor. Several long strands remained golden blonde, particularly near the front and sides. The combination stood out dramatically. His eyes were stranger still. They appeared green under normal light, but faint golden flecks became visible whenever he used different types of magic. Crimson hair was rare in town. Golden-blonde hair wasn't particularly common either. Having both made anonymity difficult.

At least no one could accuse him of being forgettable. Elara and Edric visited several shops. They purchased oil, spices, sewing needles, lamp wicks, and several bundles of cloth. Edric spent a long time examining farming tools before declaring most of them overpriced. The shopkeeper argued that the tools were made from high-quality iron. Edric responded by identifying three flaws in the first shovel. The price fell immediately. Sieghart watched the exchange with interest.

His grandfather might not possess a visible status screen, but Merchant Intimidation was probably one of his hidden skills. They stopped at a tailor next. The owner measured Sieghart while commenting on how quickly children grew. Elara purchased several tunics, two pairs of trousers, and a heavier coat for the colder months. Sieghart attempted to object to the amount. Elara ignored him.

"These are necessities," she said. Apparently, clothing didn't count as a gift if refusing it would result in him walking around naked. Reasonable. After leaving the tailor, Elara looked down at him.

"Have you found anything you want?" Sieghart shook his head.

"There were toys in the last shop," Edric said.

"I have toys."

"A wooden sword, perhaps?" Sieghart looked toward a display filled with child-sized weapons.

"No." Edric appeared personally wounded by that answer. Apparently, refusing a sword was dangerous in this world. They continued through the market. Sieghart saw carved animals, sweets, painted masks, metal puzzles, and miniature wagons. None of them seemed worth spending his grandparents' money. Whenever they asked again, he shook his head. His grandparents became increasingly troubled. Sieghart didn't understand why at first. Then he saw the way Elara looked at him. She wasn't worried that he disliked the market.

She thought he was afraid to ask. Elara and Edric knew he had been handed away by his parents. They knew he remembered at least part of his time at the estate, even if they didn't realize how complete his memories were. From their perspective, Sieghart was a reserved three-year-old who had learned not to expect anything. He worked around the farm. He rarely complained. He never asked for gifts. Rather than seeing him as responsible, they probably saw a child afraid of becoming a burden.

That realization made Sieghart uncomfortable. He wasn't trying to reject their affection. He simply possessed an adult understanding of money and didn't need another wooden toy. Unfortunately, he couldn't explain that without creating far larger concerns. Elara stopped in the middle of the street.

"How about a book?" Sieghart looked up.

"A book?"

"It might be a little early for you to learn how to read," she said.

"But we can begin slowly. I can read it to you, and then teach you the letters." Sieghart stared at her. He had forgotten about that. He could speak the local language fluently enough for his age. Years of listening to servants, workers, and his grandparents had taught him the vocabulary and grammar. Reading was different. The signs around town meant nothing to him. He recognized the symbols above certain shops only because the pictures made their purposes obvious.

Written letters appeared as unfamiliar markings without any connection to sound. He couldn't read his grandfather's records. He couldn't study books about magic. He couldn't write down the results of his experiments. For someone who had died in a library, neglecting literacy was almost insulting. Sieghart nodded.

"I want a book." Elara's expression brightened immediately. Edric glanced toward the shops ahead.

"There is a bookseller near the central square." They changed direction. The bookstore stood between an apothecary and a shop selling enchanted tools. Its front window contained several carefully arranged volumes protected behind glass. A painted sign above the door depicted an open book surrounded by silver stars. Sieghart stopped outside. His relationship with books had become complicated. They had educated him. They had sheltered him. Then several hundred of them had fallen on his head and helped kill him.

Still, refusing to read because of one fatal incident would be unreasonable. That would be like refusing to use stairs after falling down once. Assuming the stairs hadn't crushed every bone in his body afterward. Elara opened the door. A small bell rang above them. The smell of paper, ink, leather, and old wood reached Sieghart immediately. Shelves filled the shop from floor to ceiling, carrying more books than he had seen since his previous life. He stepped inside.

This time, he examined every shelf above him before moving farther. They all appeared securely attached to the walls. Excellent. Sieghart tightened his grip on Elara's hand and looked across the rows of books. Learning to read was more than another stage of growing up. It was access to knowledge his grandparents couldn't teach him. Magic. History. Aura. Monsters. Somewhere inside this world's books might be an explanation for what he had become. For the first time that day, Sieghart saw something he truly wanted.