The event that night at the temple was very blurry to me. Children weren't meant to drink anything containing alcohol, yet I was somehow intoxicated by it. This led me into a state of unconsciousness, which ended with me standing up before a kowtowed Pontifex. I was taken aback, I wasn't sure what was happening, until Telúris started chanting prayers and muttering gratitude towards the Goddess.
Realizing who was on the altar, I concluded that the Pontifex had already connected the dots and realized who I was. It wasn't part of my original plan, I was just planning on checking if the goddess was the same one who visited me on my deathbed in my previous life.
I was planning on praying in the altar chamber until the goddess came to me. It wasn't the smartest plan, nor was it foolproof, but it was simple, and my instinct told me it was a good plan anyway. I was shocked to find her in deep slumber, her hands were put on top of her chest and her face expressed neither happiness nor anger.
As the Pontifex had put, I and the goddess both had the exact same face. Although I didn't realize it until I looked at my reflection first and looked back at her face. I had a younger version of her face, but that was because I'm a child.
Either way, I was planning on asking her about the supposed "incoming doom" that she was talking about before my reincarnation. But, I guess that plan has gone through the window now.
Was it because of me? Did she use her power to cure my dying soul? Is that why she was exhausted and had to recover her strength? How long would she rest?
Over the years as a politician, I have learned to expect the worst to happen. And so, I really believe, she wouldn't wake up again.
I was also there to prove that I'm no failure. Being called that was an insult to my former self, an insult to the woman who had sacrificed everything to achieve her ambition. As her continuation, I would have none of it. Let people call me arrogant, let people call me a bitch, let people insult me in the most heinous of ways, but never call me a failure.
But, because the goddess was asleep, I had no way of proving my importance. The Pontifex might recognize it but he was the only one who truly believed it, he could see the goddess with his own eyes, unlike anybody else. Yet, his words to others could only carry little of his conviction and faith to me.
Over the next 3 years, I tried to prove to my father that I am special, that I am not a failure. Going on the easy way was unsuccessful, so I tried to do it the hard way.
I called up members of his council, men who helped him manage the realm for almost 300 years. These men, old and experienced, would tutor me on many affairs and management of the state.
There was Master Nazhif, chancellor of the realm who managed the laws and diplomacy between the various sanctuaries and cities inside the realm. He was an old elf, 458 years old in fact, and yet, he was still very fit.
He would often tell me stories dating back to our people's migration from the land of the rising sun to the west. He said that his father had served under the oracle herself that led the elven migration from the eastern lands, whether his stories are true was not important, it was the puzzles and trivias that he put inside of those stories that was. He would tell a story, about a conflict or something else and tell me who was responsible (or might be responsible), and then proceed to abolish my argument with the actual event that was the contradiction of my expectations. It served as a great philosophical lesson for me.
Next, was Master Qwerin, Steward of the realm. If my father had a long poetry session, usually several weeks, then Qwerin would take over his duty on managing our demesne. Demesnes are our land, which was Calenon city itself as well as the surrounding land.
He was a no-no sense type, focused so much on his work he barely got any sleep. He even expressed his guilt whenever he slept, because then he would leave the realm unattended. He was brutally honest, not afraid of showing his dissatisfaction whenever he had one. As such, he barely used flowery language or even comprehend sarcasm.
His lessons were simple enough, if you understood middle school geography. He asked me what is best when a problem arose in the realm. Like what should a village do when their soils had lost their fertility, simple enough, I answered by planting different types of crops. He wasn't afraid of commenting about my arrogance due to my extensive learning speed, I ignored him.
Next, was my combat training, which I had two of them.
First, was with Yohan, who trained me with Strumnir. To say he was skilled with one-handed blade would be an understatement. His proficiency, combined with his experience could easily made him one of the most lethal soldier ever. He was in his 70s, yet he moved in combat as if he was half of that. He striked and parried so fast it was hard to keep my eye on him, even when he said that he wasn't being serious.
I had a hard time trying to learn and copy his move. It wasn't that hard at first, but what made it so was the precision require to do the actions. If I had miss placed my step, then the entire set must be restarted. And I misstepped a lot. Luckily, master Yohan was very patient, to the point where I couldn't see his emotions. Wether or not he was happy with my development, I couldn't see it.
Despite sharing his knowledge, he refused to tell me any story about how he managed to get this type of skill. He only said that he was a mercenary, and he fought on a lot of wars. Aside from that, nothing.
My second combat training was with the royal guards. Haril could've trained me, but she was way too humble with herself, saying she wasn't good enough to train me. Instead, she took me to the woods, up north, at the foot of Mount Silveril. There, was a fortress specifically made for the guards who would serve the temples and the castle.
There, I stayed for 3 days a week to endure the training. It took most of my time away from the castle, so I didn't see much of father, mother nor my servants. The training involved standard military training you would receive in the modern day, although it resembled special forces training more.
One of the most common and definitely the toughest of the training was the woods survival. Each month, I was tasked with going to the woods and bringing back something to eat for the entire fortress inhabitant. While that sounded like a lot, the fortress had only 10 people garrisoning it, out of the total 700 guards that were at all times, must be active.
And so here I was, barely 10 years old and alone in the taiga forest of Northern Calenon.
If my mother ever knew what I went through right now, then she'd personally fetch me and lock me up, not giving any chance for anything to hurt me. She is loving, if not too protective.
The sun would almost set, and I haven't found anything yet. I was originally trying to track down a bear, but its track washed away near a small stream, thus preventing me from following its footsteps. A bear would be enough to feed the elders of the fortress for 5 days if I take the most out of the meat, not to mention the trophy from the skin would impress them of my performance. But alas, right now, I didn't have any lead.
More concerning was that I was lost. I was too focused on the trail that I had ventured to an explorer section of the forest. My adventure should've only lasted until dusk, but it would be at least a while until I found a landmark in this forest.
A sudden howl of a wolf startled me, prompting my head to look to the right, where it originally came from. If there were more than one howl simultaneously, then I would move and avoid the pack of wolves. But I only heard a single wolf, which was something I could hunt.
It was weird to be separated from its pack, but I decided to investigate the lone wolf. It continued to howl, yet no other voice answered it. It did, however, reveal its position to me, which I took advantage of. When I was about 20 paces from it, I took out my bow, and shot an arrow to its front left leg. The arrow misse-no, it went through the wolf!
The animal then noticed me with its glowing eyes and began running away.
"Wait! Come back!" I called for it as I gave chase.
The wolf hopped and ran as fast as it could. Jumping through a fallen long and across a small river. It wasn't as if it was trying to run away, but more like it wanted me to follow it. I realized this as soon as it was clear that it didn't go the obvious and easy path. When there was a fork, it chose the path with the heavy obstacle instead of the clear open one.
When the path in the woods opened up to a clearance, the wolf stoped and walked towards the center. I barely catched my breath when the wolf start circling a figure before disappearing to thin air.
The figure collected the remains of the wolf, some sparkly golden dusts and store in on his hand. He wore a royal robe with a hood covering his head.
"I have been waiting for you, I was told to bring you to the castle immediately"
His appearance in the wild woods would be a great shock to me. His statements made the confusion ten times worse, coupled with the fact that he wore the same exact robe my father used to wear when he was a mage.
But what shook me to the very core was what he said afterwards.
"Come with me, sister"