For real...?
Herscherik was hit with an unexpected wall he was unsure how to climb. The day after Ruseria’s departure from this world, Herscherik had requested his father to commence his education. Knowledge is power, he thought. His father hadn’t questioned his request and had appointed him a tutor by the very next day.
First, Herscherik studied language arts. The alphabet of this world was similar to that of English, which Herscherik could get used to. English was one of Ryoko’s worst subjects during her school days, but practice made perfect. His language tutor had thoroughly complimented Herscherik for being such a quick learner despite his age.
I’m sorry, I’m actually square in the middle of my thirties. Herscherik silently apologized, experiencing some bizarre sensation of guilt.
Next, he studied math. While the numbers themselves looked different than those in his previous world, they also used a decimal system. Herscherik learned it with ease. Since he was an office worker in his previous life, he could do a lot of basic calculations in his head. After another round of incessant compliments, Herscherik began to internally apologize again. For some reason, he just couldn’t get used to it.
Herscherik recalled how bizarre it was to have gained consciousness at only one year of age and theorized that it was because he had been subconsciously listening in to the conversations around him before that point.
I bet I just hear the words of this world as Japanese.
Just as Ryoko had learned Japanese without a conscious effort, learning a language didn’t feel much like learning when it was your first. Herscherik theorized that the words he had been hearing since entering this world had seeped into him as his native language. Since he didn’t remember when he uttered his first words in his previous life, Herscherik felt confident in this conclusion.
I remember wishing I was American during English classes.
As he recalled his previous life and a series of nearly failed foreign language classes, Herscherik carried on with his studies in this life. He didn’t have any trouble with math, either. On the inside, he was a 35-year-old woman who had lived her fair share in the real world and had even spent some time obtaining various licenses and qualifications as a hobby. Herscherik knew how to study. Besides, he was only learning this world’s equivalent of first-grade material.
However, his streak wouldn’t last for long.
“Unfortunately...” the tutor said, apologetically. It wasn’t his fault, though. The issue lay with Herscherik. “Your Highness does not seem to have any Magic Within... the building block of casting spells.”
Herscherik froze for a moment in disbelief before screaming in his mind. No magic!? He was defeated. Not that he made the mistake of showing any of it, but he was secretly freaking out. Herscherik had been a little (well, to be honest, very) excited to learn magic, a fantastical element that didn’t exist in his previous world. More excited by this than any woman in her mid-thirties should have been about something relegated to the realm of fantasy... of course, he was only three in this new world. But this new life of his had showered him with cruelty once more. Herscherik had tried and failed one of the most basic spells, one that created a ray of light. He tried it over and over again only to produce precisely nothing.
“It is very, very rare...” According to his magic tutor, most people contained some amount of Magic Within. The spell that cast a ray of light was a spell that anyone with Magic Within could use. Apparently, his tutor had never seen someone like Herscherik before. He couldn’t conceal his dismay. “His Majesty had originally intended to become a scholar, but he was talented in magic, too...” Any real son of the king should be able to use magic, the tutor seemed to insinuate. Furthermore, he explained that the other princes and princesses were all extremely talented in magic. Herscherik would have guessed as much.
Fearing that the king was not his real father after all, the dejected Herscherik called to his busy father that night.
“Yes, your mother happened to be without magic, too. Look how much we look alike, Hersch. Of course we’re father and son,” his father said nonchalantly, albeit a bit indulgently. He stroked Herscherik’s hair while he was at it.
I’m sorry I ever doubted your fidelity. Herscherik profusely apologized in his mind to the mother he had never met. But a lot of the reincarnated protagonists in novels and comics had incredible magical powers. In the fiction that Ryoko had enjoyed, it was just par for the course if the protagonist had powerful magic and incinerated every bad guy in their path with raging fire spells. I mean, not like I’d do that if I could. Regrettably, he wasn’t facing enemies that could simply be burned away. Herscherik knew that there was no real solution that could be reached through violence in this situation.
Still, Herscherik grumbled in his sleep that night, utterly disappointed that he couldn’t use any magic.
Then, a shocking revelation followed, trampling all over the fantastical premises of the fictional genre Herscherik was accustomed to.
“I would call you ordinary, Your Highness...” the instructor of the Knights’ Order said, just as apologetically as the magic tutor had. He was the man that currently led all of the military’s training after retiring from the Knights’ Order, very skilled in discerning the strengths of his students. After some hesitation, the instructor looked directly at Herscherik, determined. Herscherik already had a bad feeling at this point. “I am sorry, Your Highness. But I will be honest. Your Highness has no talent whatsoever in either swordsmanship or horseback riding.”
Those with a keen eye for talent knew that the kindest thing to do for their pupils was to keep them from holding onto any unrealistic hope. According to his instructor, Herscherik could learn to wield a sword or ride a horse as much as the average man after putting in dedicated work. Becoming one of the best, however, was impossible.
“His Majesty is skilled with the sword as well as with magic...”
Herscherik felt like he was getting déjà vu. This time, he didn’t run to his father’s room at night, though.
...My softhearted father sure has some good stats. He pictured his father with his usual, gentle smile. Herscherik couldn’t imagine his father fighting with a sword or firing off magic spells.