Jaenor blinked, the throbbing pain in his skull slowly receding as consciousness returned. Cold dirt pressed against his cheek, and the musty scent of hay filled his nostrils. He was in some kind of shed—an animal cabin, his mind supplied, though he'd never seen one before.
Wait. How do I know what an animal cabin is?
He sat up with a groan, clutching his head. Memories cascaded through his mind like a waterfall—but they weren't his memories. He saw a riverside village, a small farm, a father with calloused hands working the fields. He saw a girl with chestnut hair and a boy named Tarn laughing with her. He saw his own hands—no, Jaenor's hands—clenching into fists, and then darkness.
"I died," he whispered, the realization striking him like a bolt of lightning. "I was arguing with my friend over... over a girl." The last thing he remembered from his own life was lying on the floor of his apartment, his friend's horrified face above him, blood pooling beneath them.
Now he was here. In Jaenor's body.
He staggered to his feet, examining his new form. Stronger than his old body, with rough hands accustomed to farm work. He was wearing a simple tunic stained with blood—his blood. Tarn must have dragged him here and left him for dead.
As he stumbled out of the cabin, the first thing he noticed was the sky—a vivid purple-tinged blue unlike anything he'd seen on Earth. The second thing was a woman walking down the path, her hands casually weaving patterns in the air that left trails of shimmering light.
Magic. Real magic.
Three children ran past, two girls chasing each other with tiny sparks dancing from their fingertips, while a boy followed behind, watching with obvious envy.
The memories in Jaenor's mind began to organize themselves, painting a picture of this world. Women were the wielders of mana, the only ones who could tap into the mystical energy that permeated everything. Men were... mundane. Limited to physical labor and supporting roles.
Jaenor felt a smile spreading across his face. In his previous life, he'd been adept at playing people against each other, at finding and exploiting weaknesses. He'd been manipulative and calculating, traits that had eventually led to his death.
But here, in a world where power was so clearly defined by gender, perhaps those same traits could be his greatest strength.
He made his way down the path toward what he knew was Jaenor's home—a modest hut near the river. Inside, he found clean clothes and changed quickly, washing the blood from his face and hands.
"Jaenor? Is that you, boy?" A deep voice called from outside.
Memories supplied the identity—Edric, Jaenor's father. A hardworking farmer, respected for his skill with crops but ultimately subservient to his wife until her death five winters past.
"Yes, father," Jaenor called, the words feeling strange on his tongue.
The door opened, and a weathered man with kind eyes entered. "You've been gone all morning. The eastern field still needs tending." His gaze sharpened as he noticed the bruise forming on Jaenor's temple. "What happened to you?"
Jaenor's mind raced. This was his first test in this new world—how convincingly he could play the role he'd been given.
"Tarn and I had a disagreement," he said, forcing a sheepish smile. "About Lira."
Edric's face darkened. "That magistra's daughter? I've told you to stay away from her. Her mother would never permit it, and making enemies of magistras is a fool's path."
"I know, father." Jaenor lowered his eyes, playing submissive while his mind cataloged the information. Magistras—powerful female mages, apparently. And Lira, the girl they had fought over, was the daughter of one.
"Besides," Edric continued, his voice softening, "tomorrow's the Testing Day. Every girl in the village will be evaluated for magical potential. Lira will be focused on that, not on the likes of you."
Testing Day. More information slotted into place from Jaenor's borrowed memories. A ceremony where young women demonstrated their magical aptitude and were ranked accordingly, determining their future prospects and training.
"You're right," Jaenor said. "I was foolish."
Edric seemed surprised by his son's easy acquiescence. The real Jaenor would have argued, insisted that Lira cared for him despite her station. But this Jaenor had different plans forming.
"Well then," Edric said uncertainly, "let's get to that field before sundown."
As they walked to the field, Jaenor observed everything with new eyes. Women walked with confidence, even the youngest girls held a certain pride. Men worked diligently but deferentially. The social hierarchy was clear.
Yet, as they passed the village square, Jaenor noticed something interesting. A group of men sat in a circle, discussing something intently, their voices too low to hear. They fell silent as Magistra Selene passed by, bowing their heads respectfully, but Jaenor caught the gleam of resentment in some of their eyes.
So not everyone is content with their place, he thought. Useful.
In the field, as he helped his father till the soil, Jaenor's mind worked furiously. He had no magic, no mana, but he had something potentially more valuable—an outsider's perspective and a manipulator's instincts.
"Father," he said casually, "tell me about the Council of Magistras."
Edric gave him a curious look but began explaining as they worked. The Council governed the region, comprising the most powerful magic users. They controlled resources, settled disputes, and protected against threats.
"And what threats are there?" Jaenor pressed.
"Wild beasts from the Shadow Forest. Occasionally rogue mages or bandits from the northern territories." Edric paused. "And there are rumors of the Mundane Brotherhood growing in strength again."
"The Mundane Brotherhood?"
Edric glanced around nervously before continuing in a hushed voice. "Men who believe they can find ways to use magic despite their nature. Dangerous fools, all of them. The last uprising was put down before you were born. Dozens executed."
Jaenor nodded thoughtfully. "I see."
As the sun began to set, painting the strange sky in hues of deep crimson and gold, Jaenor looked toward the village center where preparations for tomorrow's Testing Day were underway. Women decorated the square with magical lights while men carried benches and built platforms under their direction.
Jaenor smiled to himself. Tomorrow would be his first real opportunity to observe the power structure of this world up close, to identify weaknesses and potential allies.