Among the nations of the western reach of the Central Continent, the Trialist Empire of Rhine was a well-established monarchy with vast holdings that sprawled out toward the center of the continent. The plentiful land was governed by three imperial houses, from which an emperor was chosen by seven electorate houses. This political process had proven stable, as the great country had yet to waver in its five-hundred-year history.
The southern portion of Rhine was known for its history of racial diversity and was home to an administrative district called Heidelberg. Owing to its cooler climate, the South primarily was known for growing grapes used in winemaking. Its thriving olive industry also served as one of the largest sources of vegetable oil for the Empire, and was valued highly as a result.
The western section of this vital—albeit humble—region was defended by the troops quartered in Konigstuhl Fortress. And within one of the several counties that fell under its protection, a similarly commonplace husband and wife were racking their brains in deliberation.
The man’s name was Johannes, and the woman’s was Hanna. The two mensch—a type of humanfolk found all across the Empire—were independent farmers that cast their lot with the Harvest Goddess. They worked grain fields full of rye and had a single olive orchard to their name. One could find hundreds, if not thousands, of middlingly successful families just like them within Rhine’s borders.
The source of the couple’s troubles stemmed from their fourth son, Erich, who was to turn six in the fall. However, it wasn’t as though he was an uncontrollable misfit or short of wits. In fact, he was a wonderful boy whom they were very proud of. He obediently listened to their orders, refrained from the idiotic antics young children are prone to, and even gave honest attempts to sing the hymns during Sabbath worship. There was no shame in calling him their son. The couple wasn’t fretting about his deficiencies—rather, he was too good.
The pair had four sons and a daughter. Their oldest son had turned eight this year, and the twins that had shortly followed their eldest were seven. They’d waited some time to birth Erich, their fourth son, and so he was five. This was the root of their concerns: who were they to send to the magistrate’s private school?
A relatively high standard of living in the commoner class pervaded the country, which meant literacy was encouraged even among farmers. For an independent farmer who wished to earn the graces of their local magistrate or lord, learning the palatial tongue (a derivative of the imperial language which employed classier pronunciation, peculiar phrasing, and some irregular grammar) was a must. On top of that, one was expected to have dabbled in poetry, and the ability to play an instrument or two was a given.
Consequently, it was typical for farming households to eat a steep tuition fee so that their firstborn son could attend their local magistrate’s school. It was common to see poorer farmers strain their meager finances in hopes of securing a future for their children. On the other hand, those with comfortable margins would go so far as to educate their second son in order to produce a backup heir or to start a branch family. It was only natural that Johannes and Hanna planned to send their own son to school.
The question was...which son?
Johannes had recently managed to win the magistrate’s permission to extend his cropland, and had made the large purchase of a workhorse in preparation. His savings were tight; in order to maintain an emergency fund, it was optimal to choose only one of his children.
Normally, he could send off his eldest son without question. Patriarchy prevailed among the short-lived mensch, and more specifically, primogeniture was a fundamental principle of imperial law. And yet, Erich’s blinding talents cast a great shadow over his older brother.
Johannes knew a great disparity in ability was usually to be expected of children three years apart. It was a perfectly logical occurrence, as the older child’s body was more developed and their mind more full of experience. But the inverted disparity between his first son, Heinz, and his fourth, Erich, was simply not something he could ignore.
Whereas Heinz fumbled through hymns meant to extol the divine and could hardly deliver prayer from memory, Erich recited the words perfectly despite his childlike lisp. Not only that, but Erich had even memorized difficult psalms filled with archaic language, earning the favor of their church’s bishop.
Furthermore, while Heinz bloodied his hands at mere vegetable peeling, Erich’s use of his fingers was beyond graceful. When the couple had yielded to his pleas for a pocket knife, he had carved a wooden idol of their goddess before the day’s end. Last month, he had replicated an entire set of board game pieces with no instruction.
On top of all this, Erich was also more mentally gifted. When asked to perform a series of chores, he instantly recognized the most efficient means of grouping the tasks. If there were any that required his full attention, he carefully completed them without a moment of idling. In contrast, Heinz was lazy and his work was often sloppy. When he’d been told to give fodder to the horse, it had ended with him drenching the feeding trough with water.
There were no doubts who was better suited to learn. Still, though it was not absolute, primogeniture was a pervasive principle in the land. To prioritize not even their second, but fourth son would carry serious social implications.
What was more, Heinz was keen on his path to school. As parents, the couple needed to consider how their three older sons would feel if their youngest brother were to overtake them. And so, the prudent Johannes and Hanna spent another day deep in thought as the school’s application deadline approached.
[Tips] Mensch are a humanfolk race found on all continents. Due to the great imbalance between the talented and talentless, they are sometimes called the “race of wise fools” or the “lottery race,” but none can top them in terms of cruelty.
Padding your stats is truly, truly important. After all, bonuses speak louder than dice more often than not.
I was a devout believer in what they called “fixed values.” Well, with my luck being the way that it was, I sort of had to be. Whenever I’d been on the player’s end, I averaged a five from a standard 2D6 roll and had often oh-so-kindly been blessed with a whopping 250 experience points as consolation for a single session’s worth of bungled dice rolls. But if I switched over to be the GM, my average shot up to a jaw-dropping nine. I couldn’t even remember how many times I’d killed my players with unexpected critical hits.
Looking at my record, I thought it was fair for me to focus on the ability to stamp out any semblance of variance as I planned out my ideal build. Since the concept of a mathematical mean clearly did not apply to me, I had always found things like the godly power of a mace’s +1 accuracy bonus particularly reassuring.
There were also schools of powergaming that relied on using an overwhelming fistful of dice to snuff out any variability, but even then, using fixed critical values was the more robust means of slaughter. I suppose I’ll have to avoid luck entirely. What an absolute shame.
As a result, I decided not to try anything strange and took great pains to level my basic stats as soon as my ego took form.
There were ten physical stats that I could manipulate: Strength, Endurance, Immunity, Stamina, Agility, Dexterity, Intelligence, Memory, Mana Capacity, and Mana Output. It appeared the system revolved around these ten attributes entangling via complex equations to compute a final result, though I wasn’t sure what the two fantasy-esque stats at the end meant quite yet.
Owing partially to the klutziness of my past self, I’d put a lot of attention into dexterity. I already had some slight confidence in my memory but also put points into improving it further. The advantage of having dexterous hands needs no explanation, and being able to recall more things is never a bad thing.
I’d had some trouble trying to internalize what “intelligence” actually meant, but it essentially boiled down to speed of thought and rationality. The thought of messing with this stat had been a tad terrifying, but after I’d tested the waters with a handful of experience points and confirmed that there weren’t any adverse effects on my consciousness, I began increasing my proficiency in it without hesitation.
Being a not-so-innocent five-year-old with a mental age in my thirties, I had become a bit of a wonder child. Anyone in their thirties could play the part of a child prodigy, but now that I’d boosted myself even higher, I was quite the sight to behold. Despite living out a normal childhood in my past life, I was now well-known as the neighborhood genius. But to be clear, I didn’t carry myself in this way to puff up my own meaningless pride.
Now, I profess myself as a data munchkin and a believer in fixed values, but I would say my most notable characteristic is that I romanticize completed builds. While I don’t wholly ignore how quickly my character comes along, my top priority is always the ideal of a finished product.