Once the door was closed, I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Unfortunately, there were no windows I could look through to verify the situation in the outside world.
While trying to get some sleep, I tried to picture what was happening to me and to the things around me. Was the "ember" my mother referred to just a way to call a fever in this world? It could be a possible explanation—you get hotter—but I did not know why; it just didn’t seem right. Even now, I could feel something at the center of my body, just below my lungs: an unnatural heat pulsing through me.
And that raised another question: if this reincarnation situation did not cure this body of its previous ailment, it could be a serious problem for me. It would be a bitter irony to reincarnate just to die in a few days or weeks from an unknown medieval disease.
But besides that, there was something probably more concerning to think about. From what my new mother had said, my new father was a leathersmith—a pretty respectable job in medieval times, I would say. But she also mentioned that the mayor of the town had placed a huge order for helmets. That could only mean that the village was getting ready for war, or at least there was a significant peril and they needed to arm themselves.
My mind continued to play out hypothetical scenarios.
What if this disease leaves me bedridden forever? How could I make a living as a cripple? Would I be sold off to the highest bidder to bear some old man’s children?
What if the town gets attacked? If my family is killed and I am the only survivor, will the other villagers care for me or just cast me out? What if the enemy wins? Will I be a slave for the rest of my life?
And while thinking all this, finally, the sweet embrace of sleep took me.
A gentle hand caressing my face woke me up. "It is me, dear. Wake up, it is time to eat. You need to eat something for dinner. I see you are more energetic than before; look how you bunched up your blanket."
Looking down, I saw that half my leg was indeed out, and I had squeezed and rolled up the upper half of the blanket. Feeling a sudden warmth on my cheeks, I sat up and adjusted the blanket over me properly. "Sorry, Mother."
"Oh, do not worry, dear, I am just happy that you are getting healthier. Now come and sit. As promised, if you finish everything, I will answer some of your questions."
I took the bait without hesitation. After finishing my meal—almost burning my tongue more than once—I looked eagerly into her grey eyes.
"Okay, okay, what do you want to ask this wise lady, little lamb?"
Hmm, I do not know. I cannot be too direct; I am still young... Let’s first ask about the money and the goddess.
"Mother, you talked about copper fairs. What are those? And also about Jute, who is she?"
"So those are what you decide to ask me, eh?" She let out an amused chuckle. "It seems my little lamb is growing up and has stopped asking about her father! So, fairs are the money we use here in Dilemd. You can use them to buy different things, and you can earn them by doing work for other people. As for Jute, she is our goddess. With her blazing eyes, she looks through every lie and gives the right punishment to everyone."
Well, she did not really answer the money question, but now I know a little bit more about the goddess. Should I ask her for a book to start reading something? But can she even read? We seem pretty privileged, but we should still be normal peasants, so I do not think they have books or know how to read and write...
"Mother, will my ember be alright?"
That should be the question. I need to understand what this fever is that I have.
She looked at me with pity and gently placed her hand over my chest, right where I had previously felt the heat emanating. "The gods gave us the gift of life, and every day you can feel it inside of you. It is still strong in you, I can feel it, dear. Do not worry, you will recover. Now, go to sleep."
She tucked me in, adjusted the blanket over me, and, smiling, kissed me on the head. "Goodnight, my lamb," she said, closing the door behind her.
And so, that was how the next three days went. I was still stuck in bed with a strong fever I could not understand. My only pastimes were during lunchtime, when my mother explained to me what was happening around me. She told me how the baker’s son got into a fight with a vagrant kid trying to steal his father’s bread, how the village militia was recruiting more people, how the parish of Jute sent a new priest over to the village, and how my father was still too busy to meet me.
During the evening, it was question time. I understood a little bit more of the world every time. I was in a country called the Dilemd Empire, a massive hegemony, and we resided in what was called the rural district, known for its pastures and animal husbandry. We lived in a small village governed by a mayor who took his orders directly from the district capital. She told me this was because our village had still not been "blessed by a knight."
Only Jute knows what that means.
A massive hegemony implied conquered territories, heavy taxation, and a constant need for troops to police the borders. Being in a "rural district" sounded idyllic, but in warfare, the breadbasket is always the first target for foraging armies. And this "knight’s blessing"? Whether it was a feudal ranking or something more mystical, it clearly meant we were at the very bottom of the food chain—unprotected, insignificant, and highly expendable.
I also understood how the fairs worked.
A pretty convoluted system, if you ask me, but one that hinted at a terrifying wealth gap.
Five copper fairs made one bronze fair, twenty bronze fairs made one silver fair, thirty-six silver fairs made one gold fair, and lastly, one hundred gold fairs made one obsidian fair.
Peasants like us probably bled their whole lives just for copper and bronze, while the elites traded in gold and obsidian. The economic machinery of this empire had to be colossal to support a five-tier currency.
My mother showed me a silver fair, and after stepping out of the room, she brought back a small box. Inside, there was a gold coin. One side bore an intricate cross with crutch-like ends connected by curved lines, and on the other was the face of a stern young man.
"This, little lamb, is our current Emperor Grand Master: Tarkios-Muranti-Dilemd. His father gathered a great armada to explore the unknown of the North and never came back. Poor young lad."
An armada lost in the North? A teenage Emperor Grand Master? A massive power vacuum.
Every instinct I had honed serving in destabilized war zones screamed at me. A boy on the throne meant ambitious generals, scheming nobles, and a glaring weakness that neighboring enemies would inevitably exploit. Suddenly, my father’s massive order for leather helmets made terrifying sense. The empire wasn’t just dealing with local bandits; it was bracing for a total collapse or an all-out war.
So, to summarize: I reincarnated into a bedridden girl in the Middle Ages, in an empire that recently lost its emperor, crowned what looks like a teenager, and lost most of its army.
Well, I’ll be damned.