The Land of The Dead Hero

"Listen, people, listen well! The great time of our Hero is yet to come! Our enemies believe they can divide us! That our spirit is broken! But such liars only lie to themselves! Demons, orcs, and all other filth can manage to only slander our Hero Arailt when he is dead, yet when he lived, none could face him in battle! They say our kingdom is weak and divided! They say that the wise Council of Ten, which has overlooked all of Heroia for decades, has become corrupt and ineffective! That there is infighting, factionalism, and evil at the very top of this kingdom!"

The preacher, Savas, dressed in a white robe with a symbol of two crows, was shouting at the square in front of the white church. There was a small crowd of listeners who sometimes screamed when he paused. Some have shouted: "Death to the Grand Witch!" or "They will not defeat us!" 

The preacher continued, seemingly happy with that reaction: "Do not give in to those lies! Always remember what our great Hero said! He has promised us that even if he were defeated, he would return from the dead at the worst time of this land to save us, accompanied by a group of valiant knights in white, mounted on dragons that would descend from the sky! And that those dragons would burn any army that would dare to oppose his might! Heed his promise and his words! And remember, what his last words were:" He made a dramatic pause at that moment, which allowed the public to lean in, yearning for his every word.

"But do not wait for that moment. Do not wait for me to save you. Always strive to be a hero yourself! Be brave! Be valiant! Be free!"

And his words were followed up by a round of applause and whistling. Anasa was there too, in the crowd, holding Aer's hand. Elias was in a meeting with the mayor, discussing the giving of wheat. Aer knew that Elias wanted to convince the mayor to allow him to keep more of the grain for himself. Naturally, to sell it, of course, as they were running out of money. But they were not the only ones. People in the village wore clothing that was often torn, sometimes looking as if it had been shared across many generations. Despite that, their clothes were vibrant and colorful. Despite the ongoing conflict, the atmosphere on the square was almost cheerful. Aer found it fascinating.

No one is doubting anything this guy is saying. These people are like literal sheep.

The square was mainly composed of women, with only one man, the innkeeper Ramus, resting his head on his elbow as he was looking outside his inn, yawning in the process. Many of these women appeared to be his mother's friends, and Aer was becoming confused with their names, faces, and histories.

"Listen up, Aer. No more of that I am a boy nonsense. You are not a boy, you are a girl. And you will not say such things in public. You don't know better anyway."

Aer had heard quite a lot of talk about this subject numerous times now, and this line specifically was said just mere moments before they left their watermill. Anasa and Elias were not supportive of this narrative at all, which deeply frustrated Sam. It was mainly a catalyst for the fact that they started treating Aer very differently since this subject was brought up. Suddenly, she wasn't their sweetie, but a problematic, difficult child. Despite this, Anasa frequently insisted that it is at least better than "Arailt", whatever that meant.

What sort of a vile fucking punishment is this? If they saw me in my previous life, they sure as hell wouldn't say this shit and force me to carry a doll around in a dress.

Well, at least Aer could go outside into the city, where she mostly kept quiet and stared aggressively at just about anyone. Arailt was left at home. Their interactions so far have been limited, filled with mutual distrust and distance.

Aer started to feel increasingly jealous of him. For starters, he didn't have to do anything at all. He was just lying or being taken care of. Yes, this was because he couldn't move. But so what? Why would he receive special treatment, while they had already started discussing helping her out at the watermill?

Aer was TWO, and from the eyes of their parents, that was enough to suggest at least some manual labor, for she could speak, walk, and move her hands. So, they made her carry water to the animals, which she hated. Her parents had already started discussing how she could start feeding them at three, cleaning the house at four, and going for regular shopping to Barem on her own at five. This was, as she understood, considered normal, which seemed like a complete and utter nightmare and certainly didn't reflect real life.

What the fuck is this sick fucking twisted world and why does it punish me so much?

Children were everywhere, especially in Barem. They were running around the square, the houses, and even in the fields. It appeared everyone in this world was procreating like rabbits, which didn't make sense considering Aer barely saw any men in the town, except for the mayor, the innkeeper, the preacher, and her father, the miller. It was apparent that men were probably drafted into the conflict. However, it was still rather strange, as Aer clearly saw a female knight when that mute lady - Cryselle - visited their household with the belongings of her grandfather, which barely interested her, as Aer was extremely flustered about the whole "be a girl" approach.

Of course, Aer was also far more intelligent than a normal child - this probably motivated her parents to even suggest that labor so early, which became especially painful when other children became involved, which happened rather quickly. It merely took the time for women to all go to the inn, seeking wine, when their children on the square before the Church went playing. Anasa, as well as the other mothers, were watching the whole square like hawks, but the children paid no mind to it and immediately started being insufferable. Aer tried to mostly stay with Anasa, just near the tables on the inn's wooden square garden - couldn't think of anything else really - but that didn't stop the rest of the children from pursuing her. After they played with rocks and some dolls, an entire group of them sent one delegate, seemingly trying to make friends with her.

Mind you, none of these children was over four years old. There was a group of older ones, but those kept closer to the mayor's house. Those could be about 6 to 12.

"I am Xert," said the delegate, a small boy with blue eyes and hair like Aer, and then went dead silent. 

Truly insightful. But we are about the same age, but not everyone can be a genius like me and Arailt.

"Yeah, yeah. My dada is big adventara. Your dada?"

Fascinating. Well, now what?

"Uhhh...My dada..."

God, help me.

Aer put her hand before her face in a clenched fist and said with a dead stare:

"My dada watermill. I baga bugu you if don't leave me alone dada wada"

I hope he understood that, otherwise I have to kick him.

Xert was seemingly devastated by that answer.

"Yes, I go rock," Xert said, as if that explained everything, but then seemed to become hastily happy again as children on the square began playing some sort of game with rocks. Aer stared at them while the mothers talked and chittered at the inn. Some of them were discussing the market, which was supposed to arrive today—a caravan of carriages that came once a year, with the bell signaling its arrival. They were speculating about its contents, mostly hoping for food and clothing, but the more wealthy ones were hoping for luxurious items such as jewellery.

This, of course, didn't bother Aer in the slightest, as she watched the group of kids play with rocks, as if it were the funniest game in the world. It made Sam think about his own childhood. He didn't remember at all when he was this young. But now, he is here. Stuck. Trapped. In a living nightmare.

What should I do? Seriously? How do I get back? And can I even?

He zoned out, thinking to himself, watching the world through the little girl's eyes.

Until one of the kids picked up a rock and threw it at the other one.

Aer froze up. The memories of that girl on the protest flooded her mind. The shape of her face was changed when she was hit by that brick. Sam saw it. They were all dead because of it. And here, kids younger than four were about to do the same.

Don't they know what they are doing?  He thought to himself.

Of course they don't! He realized and started sprinting to them. 

"Stop it!" Aer screamed, but one of the boys, the chubbier one with green hair, had already decided that he was going to throw that rock. He was bigger than the rest by a considerable size. He was fed like a pig, swelling in the sun. Apparently, even his mother, the innkeeper's wife, Suzanne, noticed his behavior because of Aer's scream, but the damage was already done by then. She angrily exclaimed, "Erop, no, don't throw it!" and started running to the church, her skirt billowing around her legs.

Perhaps that was all the more motivation for Erop, who threw that big rock directly at Xert's head. Aer screamed and ran straight at him. Her heart was pounding like a deer's with an arrow in its leg. Sam was terrified that the young boy would die. A boy who, by his knowledge, didn't hurt anybody. Who wanted to play with him, which he naturally rejected. Did he deserve to have his face mangled and twisted? To be killed?

The hand of fear that enclosed itself around his heart was so strong that he had never felt anything like it before.

And then, that rock hit Xert's face and burst in all directions. Yet the boy was fine, seemingly unharmed. He was touching his face in confusion, seemingly unsure how that happened. But Aer, engulfed in rage, jumped at the chubby boy, who was seemingly realizing his mistake when he saw his mother, and started beating him.

Her fist certainly wasn't hitting the way it used to back in the old life. But a fist is still a fist. Man's primal weapon since the dawn of time. It felt good. Maybe a little too good. It was something Sam needed. It didn't feel strange at all. And it was so easy, too. This boy was weak. Fat. Disgusting.

I am going to beat his ass so much he will not hurt anyone again! He will fucking remember this!

"AER, STOP IT!" Anasa screamed as the mothers flocked to their children like geese and started separating them. However, separating Aer from Erop took two adult women, for how vicious and relentless she was. "That's enough! Stop it!" It was absolute chaos, with everyone blaming everyone, and in the middle was Xert, completely unharmed and confused, holding a purple rock. It seemingly broke from the stone Erop threw at him.

"I have a rock," he tried to tell the angry mothers and children before him, but no one listened.

The bells on the church tower tolled.