Zach woke earlier than usual, awakened not by the sunlight spilling through the windows, but by a quiet excitement pulsing in his chest. Today wasn't a normal day of reading books or playing in the garden. Today marked the start of something greater his first day learning how to become the next Lord of Ravennest.
After breakfast, Vincent personally arrived to fetch him. Dressed in his usual black-and-gold uniform, he looked every bit the composed and capable lord. Zach followed his father through the quiet hallways, their footsteps echoing softly off the stone floors. It wasn't often he got to see Vincent during the day, let alone be part of his work. That alone made the boy straighten his back with pride.
They arrived at Vincent's office, a large room filled with maps, scrolls, and books. Behind the desk stood a shelf filled with ledgers, sealed letters, and volumes on law, economy, and diplomacy. Zach could hardly believe this room was where so many decisions were made.
"The first thing you need to learn, Zach," Vincent said, gesturing for him to sit across the desk, "is that a lord is not someone who simply gives orders. A lord serves. A lord listens. A lord carries the burden of many lives on his shoulders."
Zach listened intently, his young face serious. He'd always admired his father, but now he was beginning to understand the weight of what Vincent did.
The morning was filled with lessons some spoken, others observed. Zach watched as Vincent reviewed reports from neighboring villages, adjusted grain allocations for the winter, and penned a formal letter to a noble in the south. Every action had purpose, every word carried weight.
Later, Vincent handed him a beginner's ledger. "Start small," he said. "Learn how to track and balance. It may seem dull, but managing resources is one of a lord's most important responsibilities."
Zach accepted it with both hands, feeling as if he'd just been handed something sacred.
Throughout the day, Vincent quizzed him on geography, trade routes, and noble houses. He explained the difference between authority and respect, how a good lord must know when to act and when to wait, and how listening truly listening could prevent wars.
By late afternoon, Zach's head was spinning with knowledge, but he refused to show any sign of fatigue. Vincent noticed, of course, but said nothing. He simply smiled.
"You did well for your first day," Vincent finally said, placing a gentle hand on his son's shoulder. "This path is long, Zach. You don't have to learn everything at once. But remember each day, you must try. That's how a boy becomes a lord."
Zach nodded slowly, the ledger hugged against his chest. This world was far more complicated than he'd imagined, yet for the first time, he felt like he had a place in it not just as a child or a symbol, but as a student of leadership, walking the path his father once did.
Zach sat quietly on a bench just outside his father Vincent's office, his young legs barely reaching the ground. The lessons for the day had ended, but Zach's thoughts were far from the dusty scrolls and diagrams that had filled the room. His eyes drifted toward the window, where the sunlight played upon the leaves. A memory stirred.
It was a memory from his previous life a flashback to a time when he was around sixteen years old, already thrust into a world of politics. In his old country, the system was unique: it gave the youth a chance to lead, to represent their communities, and to act on behalf of their generation. That chance came to him when he was chosen to be one of the youngest leaders in their town.
He still remembered the feeling the nerves, the uncertainty, but also the fierce determination.
In that world, his first project was called Get Stronger. He launched it with nothing more than an idea and a group of like-minded youths. The goal was simple: to give free gym access to the youth in their town, encouraging health, discipline, and camaraderie. He went door to door, met with gym owners, spoke with community leaders, and rallied friends to support the cause. With relentless effort, he convinced enough gyms to join the program.
Soon, tickets were distributed. Young people began visiting gyms not just to exercise, but to connect, to share, and to grow stronger together.
The project was a success. Participation soared. More than just a health initiative, Get Stronger became a symbol of unity. The youth, seeing that someone their age was doing something real for them, began to believe in him. Volunteers started to pour in. His rallies grew louder. His influence, stronger.
With time, he expanded into more ambitious ventures environmental cleanups, education campaigns, and even rescue operations. He still remembered the night he led a volunteer group during a local flood crisis, risking his own safety to evacuate stranded families. That act gained him recognition, not just as a leader but as someone people could count on.
That past life, filled with purpose and action, had shaped the person he was. And now, in this new world, that same fire still burned.
Zach stood up from the bench and decided to go home.
At his room.
Zach sat at the small desk in the corner of his room, a quill in hand and ink lightly staining his fingers. The candlelight flickered gently, casting dancing shadows along the parchment he hadn't yet touched. His mind wasn't on his current readings, nor on the arithmetic problems he'd left half-solved.
Instead, it was on an idea a spark ignited by memories of his past life.
He remembered the Get Stronger project. It had been more than just a campaign for fitness; it was a foundation. A way to shape the youth, empower them, and earn their trust. That idea had brought unity, purpose, and ultimately a community that believed in one another.
What if… he could do the same here?
The thought wouldn't leave him. This world lacked modern education. Most children, especially commoners, learned only what their parents could teach if anything at all. But what if education could include not only reading and writing, but discipline, survival, and service?
Military training. Not for war but for purpose. For resilience. For unity.
He imagined a program woven into the town's future a small unit where young boys and girls could learn basic martial skills, discipline, and responsibility. Not as soldiers, but as citizens who could one day serve the territory with strength and wisdom.
Zach's eyes lit up as the pieces fell into place in his mind. If he could begin this early gather a handful of willing youths, supervised by trusted guards, and slowly build it into something greater then one day, when he needed them, they would already be prepared.
He reached for a fresh parchment and dipped his quill.
"To Sir Rendon,
I hope this letter finds you well. I have an idea I would like to discuss with you something important, concerning the youth of our town and their future role in Ravennest.
If you have time in the coming days, I would be grateful for a conversation.
With respect,
Zacharias V. Ravennest."
He finished the letter, signed it carefully, and folded it with purpose. There was an eagerness in his heart, a feeling he hadn't felt in some time.
This world could be different his world could be different.
And it would start with one idea. One conversation.
One future, slowly being built.
At the headquarters
In the corner of a cluttered desk sat a neatly folded envelope, sealed with the wax crest of House Ravennest. It bore no mark of urgency, yet the sender's name Zacha Ravennest was written with a care that suggested the contents mattered dearly to him.
But the letter would remain unread, at least for now.
Within the walls of the guard headquarters, chaos reigned. Piles of documents threatened to spill from their stacks. Reports of increased bandit activity, patrol schedules, equipment inventories, and recruitment logs covered every inch of Rendon's office. The man himself, commander of the army, stood behind his desk with sleeves rolled and brow furrowed, eyes scanning one report after another.
He had just returned from a morning drill with the recruits, sweat still clinging to his brow, when a new batch of papers was thrust into his hands. A merchant caravan had been ambushed not far from the northern ridge. Another patrol had reported missing livestock likely stolen. Supplies were running thin in one outpost, and a greenhorn officer had filed a confusing and contradictory report that now demanded his immediate attention.
Rendon moved with practiced efficiency, issuing orders to aides, adjusting guard rotations, and planning countermeasures. A hornet's nest of responsibility buzzed around him, and yet he didn't flinch. He couldn't afford to. Not with the roads growing more dangerous by the day.
The letter sat there still, untouched.
One of his junior officers noticed it and asked, "Sir, this came in earlier from the Lordling."
Rendon glanced at it briefly, recognition flashing in his eyes. "Set it aside for now. I'll read it when I have a moment."
But moments were a luxury he didn't have.
As the sun dipped lower and the sky began to turn gold, Rendon was still at his post, barking orders and scribbling over maps. Outside, the sounds of swords clashing during drills echoed in the yard. The town guard was holding the line but barely.
And so, Zach's letter waited.
A quiet request from a boy who dreamed of shaping the future.
But the present, messy and loud, demanded too much from those guarding it.
For now, the future would have to wait.