“Pelirise, the Sun – goddess of... the sun, as you expertly guessed. Patron-deity of summer and, allegedly, of sunburns. Also, protector of matrimony and virtuous love. I tell you, married men don't like her a lot. They'd much rather honour Viera and her... open-minded and flexible teachings.

-unsatisfied husband”

* * *

???

“Bbl... Gah!” said the infant.

He observed the fleshy, almost hairless thing that was meant to be his little sister. “I see. Pleased to meet you too,” he eventually greeted in his native tongue, as it was the first time he was being left alone and unsupervised near her. His mother usually spent her days at home, nursing and watching over him, and, ever since she was born, his sister. His greeting was met with eyes widening in shock and stupefaction. Yes, behold my advanced speech. I am the superior child amongst the two of us.

Well, this wasn't nearly enough to conclude whether or not this newborn sister was also a reincarnated hero of old. Perhaps she was simply in awe of her brother's display of intelligence. He was almost one year old but she, on the other hand, could barely boast a single month of existence. How pitiful.

He couldn't recall much about his time as a one month-old creature, but even with the massive advantage of having the memories from his previous life, he was almost certain he didn't look any smarter than this girl, even though he clearly was. At the time, he was still busy adapting to the new reality. Understanding that he had been reincarnated as a baby and that his parents weren't abominations from the Abyss, and all that.

There would be no reason to suspect his perfectly normal sister and her limited intellect of anything, in fact, if it wasn't for the strange tattoo that could be found on the back of her right hand.

A dark red symbol representing a droplet of blood, most likely, running along a bramble thorn. Very ominous – nothing one would want to bear on his hand.

It seemed she was born with it, and even though the idea made no sense in his mind, it looked like their parents had no issue with it. At first he assumed it to be a slave mark of some kind, but he couldn't spot a similar inscribing on his parents' bodies or his own, and they seemed to live in a decent house anyway, so the probability seemed low. There was another possibility, one that dealt with gods, but he sincerely hoped he was wrong – for her sake.

No, it's much more than a mere possibility. The longer I look at it, the more familiar it feels. I'm fairly sure it's identical to the one I saw a long time ago... Hmm, I can't recall the details. Why did he have to wear gloves all the time, this fucker? Was he ashamed of his mark or something?

But then that would mean the gods made a mistake. Where was his mark? Such a blunder would be very ungodly, though. Perhaps this whole business had nothing to do with gods, in the end. Hopefully he was mistaken and his sister's mark held an entirely different meaning.

He sighed. “A cultural thing, perhaps. What say you, little sister? Are you a slave heading straight into a life of servitude, or are you not?”

...Well, either way, it's the same, he concluded grimly. I'd be almost relieved if I wasn't the bearer of the mark this time.

A cry was all he got for an answer. One thing that didn't change since then was that he still made babies cry involuntarily. He always believed it was because of his face, but here in this second life he had seen his reflection in the water once, when he was being washed, and there was nothing wrong with his new face. It was... a baby's face, as plain and unexceptional as it could get.

Perhaps she just couldn't understand this language. Just because someone was reincarnated with him did not mean that they came from the same place or era. He recalled there was one fellow in his group that came from some faraway land and couldn't speak one word of Pelirian. They had to figure out how to communicate in a hurry right before a siege. What a clusterfuck that was, this battle, now that he thought about it...

Before he could try in some of the other tongues he had learned during his past life, they were disturbed. The sister's screeching had made their mother hurry inside the room, wondering what could have caused such a sudden burst of tears, no doubt.

“Rina, what's wrong? Are you hungry?” she asked as if she expected the speech-impaired baby to answer with something other than her current crying.

His sister had been named a week after her birth, and it seemed that doing so was a custom here. Once a baby became seven days old, a ritual took place, during which the infant was named. The parents brought a bit of earth and spread it on the child's body, then offered a name to the gods – but other than that, everything was done in silence.

He had probably gone through the same ritual a week after his birth, though he had no recollection of it. There wasn't much he could recall about his first weeks of existence, as he had been dealing with his underdeveloped senses and his incomplete memories, not even suspecting the fact that he had been reborn yet.

These were the first obstacles he had had to overcome in this new life. Not being able to turn his head or move his arms as he wished, to decide when he had to defecate, it was fairly humiliating. It wasn't that bad, though. It couldn't compare to the time he had infiltrated an enemy fort by hiding in some cramped barrel – he had to lay in wait for three days and three nights. As a baby, he could at least gesticulate, babble and evacuate wastes without the fear of being found out.

The discomfort and unease caused by his body was one thing, but the pain caused by his memories coming back was much worse.

Every time he slept, he'd dream about things. About his past. And every time he'd wake up, he'd remember something, but he'd also be in pain – horrible pain. The worst headaches he ever suffered, as if his head was about to explode, as if the memories and thoughts flowing in his mind were tearing it apart. It would calm down eventually, but not before his screams caused his mother to wake up in panic. She must have been thinking he was one damn crybaby, or some capricious glutton who always had to be fed.

With time, the dreams became rarer and rarer, until he stopped having them. He could now say with confidence that he had regained all the memories he had at the time of his death. It was both a blessing and a curse, for now he had to force himself to act like a child. For instance, breast-feeding used to be fine... when he didn't have the guilt and the awareness of an adult. Now, it was just weird. Hopefully it would stop soon, he was almost one year-old, for Viera's sake.

For now, he had to maintain his role of a regular, non-reincarnated baby. “Mama!” he called out in his most joyful tone. He already had a good understanding of the tongue these people spoke, but it would do him no good if he started to show off his vocabulary. Though his pronunciation was more credible – not that the language was hard in itself, but this stupid mouth he was stuck with couldn't manage to properly articulate the words yet.

“You too?” the mother inquired as she began feeding Rina. He promptly shook his head, since he already ate not long ago. The meals here were voluptuous and soft, mostly pale with a touch of pink. The milk, however, he failed to appreciate. Never liked the taste, but I'll endure, I should soon get to eat regular food.

His mother smiled, as any mother would when seeing her son seemingly being able to understand what she said. “Don't you think your sister is gorgeous, Astrael?”

I wouldn't know, he meant to say, but he had to build his persona of a doting older brother, and so decided to reply with a magnificent “Gah!” instead.

“Hear that, Rina? Astrael says you're the prettiest girl alive.”

Such was his new name. It was as good as any, or at least he thought so. The names around sounded like nothing he had ever heard, so he had no way to know if it really was a good one. But he did like the ring of it. The only names he already knew here were the gods'. He had heard the names of Pelirise, Xito and Viera being voiced during prayers when the mother was giving birth to Rina. The pronunciation was somewhat different, but these were the deities he knew, of that he was sure.

It was reassuring, obviously. That meant he was probably on the same lands he used to live on. He couldn't gather any information about the place or the time, but since they had the same gods it couldn't be too foreign of a place. I wish there were books somewhere... And I wish I could read too.

Learning to read was amongst his top priorities. As far as he could see, his parents weren't literate, and if they were, then they were also masters at hiding any form of writing from Astrael's observing eyes. He had been crawling around, ransacking the only two rooms in the house, but his search for information proved vain. It wasn't a particularly wealthy room, so it was likely they could afford neither books nor a reading teacher.

Maybe I ought to directly ask mother, instead. Being illiterate does not mean being ignorant. Hi mama, I know I'm only one year old, but could you tell me about geography and history? Or whatever it's called in your language.

There was no way it would go well. He couldn't know if it was a thing around here, but back where he came from, burning suspicious people was commonplace. That was because mind-rot and corruption were commonplace too. If a child showed symptoms of illness or madness, the parents were expected to inform the local priests, and, from time to time, intelligence and common sense among children was mistaken for folly and infection. They could not take any risk, for cases of corruption that weren't properly dealt with would give birth to scourges and plagues.

Well, the past is the past, and we eradicated the disease... I think? I kinda died before I could confirm that, but it seemed to me like we were making good progress. Regardless, hopefully this is a civilized future where the idea of precocity is widely known. Though he wouldn't try to find out anytime soon. At least not until he figured out if his parents were bright, tolerant individuals, or superstitious brutes.

For now, everything seemed to point toward the former possibility. The father, he hadn't seen a lot as he was busy with the farm, but the mother was kind and attentive. Possibly tolerant, then. More importantly, they didn't look bothered by the mark on Rina's hand. If anything, whenever Astrael caught them staring at her hand, he could only find reverence and awe in their eyes.

And, in the mother's expression, a tinge of sadness.

All of this only hinted to the possibility Astrael dreaded. It felt like she knew what the mark was. The only silver lining he could find in all that was that if he verified his suspicions, it would confirm him who was the patron-deity of these lands.

Not his own, unfortunately.

There was another reason why he deemed unsafe to reveal anything out of the ordinary about him – he wouldn't want to get involved needlessly. Because who knew? Sure, maybe the parents themselves weren't particularly disturbed by the mark, maybe they even knew its true nature, but it didn't mean it was the same for everyone else. What if people misunderstood what the mark meant and thought Rina was a witch of some sort?

Our parents sometimes speak about other people, but I don't recall them inviting friends or showing Rina – or me, while we're at it – to anyone at all, so that may be it. What if they're hiding her? It can't be that my parents are loners living in a village of madmen... I hope it's not that.

For now, he had to avoid acting weird, as to not get suspected too. I don't want to be burnt alive at the age of one.

* * *

It wasn't long before his concerns were answered. For the first time in his short new life, Astrael got to see the outside world – the outside of his house, at least. It was a small village, and though nothing seemed wrong at first, it took him a moment to realize why he felt funny.

He felt at home. The architecture was a bit different from what he knew, but houses were still made of wood and stones, the villagers' clothes were unsurprisingly very villager-like, there were fields of wheat in the distance, sheep and chickens and whatnot. It was cosy, it reminded him of his country's villages.

It's nice, but... It's somewhat disappointing. I'd have liked to be born in a city or something. I suppose I'll have a hard time finding books here.

People were attending their own affairs, in a relative tranquility. A lady drawing water from the well waved at Astrael's family when she noticed them. Children were swinging wooden sticks, playing at being knights. They barely avoided his mother, who was carrying Rina, as they ran around without looking.

His father raised his voice. “Hey! Careful, kids!”

“Sorry, mister Joel!” one of them bothered to answer. Damn kids, Astrael thought, frowning, I'll beat them up when I grow up. Then they'll see how sorry they are.

His mother stared at him for a bit. “Dear,” she eventually said, “your son is making a strange grimace. I think you scared him when you yelled.”

“Oh, did I?” he wondered as he, too, stared at the baby he was holding. Astrael quickly proved his father innocent by elegantly shaking his head, which made the man smile. “See? He was probably just pooping or something.”

I wasn't. He frowned yet again, as menacingly as he could, but both his parents were looking away now. Nngh. What an oaf this guy is...

Glancing in the direction they were looking, he saw another family approaching – friends surely, seeing as everyone was wearing a kind smile on their face. After the mandatory greetings, it was time for each parent to brag about their own child.

“So here are the famous siblings, eh?” the wife said with genuine interest. “Hello there, Astrael! Do you remember me?” I don't. Who are you, woman? It seemed he had been outside and had met people already, though he must have been too young to remember. “I take it this is Rina?”

“That would be her,” Joel replied proudly as he looked at the infant, before turning his attention back to his son. “Astrael, say hi to Gidelle, will you?”

“Hello,” he complied while waving, though he was thinking about something else. We're famous, it seems. Hear that, little sister? Famous. He could see why he would be, what with the intelligence and natural charisma he displayed and all that, but why his sister too? She wasn't even pretty – yet. If she turned out to be like his mother, then yes, she'd be famous in the village, but for now, she was a mere babbling baby... He could guess it had to do with the mark, and so that meant the villagers knew.

“Our Rickael here is one good-for-nothing, I can tell you that. Aren't you, Ricky?” Hearing the kind praise of his loving father, the brat, probably six or seven, hid behind his mother's dress while staring at Rina.

“My, I think he has a thing for your daughter, Rosa.” Astrael's mother could only answer with an embarrassed chuckle, as she, too, probably hoped it wasn't the case. We all know where this sort of talk leads. Worry not, little sister, I shall be the one to choose your husband and your in-laws. This family won't do – their heir is a coward and has no manners.

“Hehe, well... It's not, err...” The stuttering enemy father awkwardly rubbed the back of his head while glancing repeatedly at Rina's mark. Astrael didn't miss one bit of that moment. “Anyway! Won't you come for supper tonight?”

“Oh, thank you Danil, we'd be delighted,” his father said. The adults spoke for a bit longer, while the children, Astrael among them, silently exchanged looks. To be exact, Astrael glared at Rickael, who was staring at Rina, who was gazing at the sky with half-closed eyes.

On the way back to the house, a few more people greeted his family, and so Astrael had to admit that his parents were not loners, on the contrary. They seemed to be quite the popular couple. Was it because they were well-liked, or because their daughter had received the mark?

A bit of both, If I had to say.

Evening came, and so the family headed out for supper. Danil and Gidelle's house wasn't any different from their own. Same size, same materials, more or less. There were two rooms, too. It seemed to be the standard for the houses in this village.

After the prayer, everyone sat at the table while they ate and chatted and talked about many topics. Gossip about the villagers, hopes for this year's harvest and the quality of the crops, plans for the future... Rickael was to become a farmer, like his father and, in fact, most people in the village.

Astrael already knew that his own father was a farmer, but in case anyone at the table had forgotten it, Joel made sure to remind them by having a lengthy monologue about crops, something that only Danil was interested in. The two wives looked absolutely bored at the time, and Rosa had to elbow her husband in the ribs to make him shut up so that they could move to different topics.

“So,” Gidelle said to Rosa, seeing that the men were still trying to talk about crops one way or another, “are you going to ask old man Horace?”

“Ah, for the children? Well...” she thought for a bit. “I guess I will. He used to be an apothecary in Callir, and he's literate. I think he won't mind teaching Astrael and Rina.”

A sly grin formed on his face. Oh, what is this? Talking about me, I hear. Will I finally learn to read?

“I think we'll wait until they're older,” she continued. Not wanting his education to be delayed any longer, Astrael turned his head to glare at his mother, who made a surprised face. “...But I suppose Horace could read them books in the meantime.”

He congratulated her for her wise decision by giving her a large smile full of love. Even without the urgency of learning about the world, being taught from a very young age was the perfect cover. It would allow him to speak earlier than planned without being suspected of anything. They'd just assume Astrael was a prodigy of some sort, and that he learned quickly with this Horace fellow as a teacher.

“It's funny,” Rosa said with an amused voice. “Sometimes I feel like he understands perfectly what I'm saying.”

Gidelle observed Astrael for a moment, then shrugged. “Perhaps he does. Would that be surprising? Your daughter has the mark, you should expect her brother to be somewhat out of the ordinary, too.”

Yes, yes. Praise me more. I feed on praises and compliments.

Aside from that, there wasn't a single sentence uttered about future plans concerning Rina. Or perhaps there was, and he didn't listen or understand fully, seeing as his mastery of the language wasn't perfect yet. Though he had a gut feeling that his linguistic skills weren't the issue. They were damn good, after all.

At some point, Danil brought ale on the table, allowing the conversation to move up a notch in terms of noisiness. Soon enough, the fathers were clearly drunk, while the mothers somehow managed to maintain dialogue with each other. Astrael, who had the privilege of being sited on his mother's lap all this time, couldn't begin to fathom how they seemed to ignore the two resounding talkers next to them. Experience, perhaps. It felt slightly improper to be so loud with his infant sister in the room, though Rina seemed perfectly fine, and asleep, tucked in some sort of basket not far from Rosa.

Rickael came to their side and neared Rina's basket. He stood there, right next to Astrael and Rosa, silently staring at the sister for some time. Astrael kicked him, as a reminder of his position. This pretender shouldn't hope for anything as long as the older brother was here.

Plus, she's meant to do great things. I can't let her marry half-wits like you, forgive me.

Though the adults appeared to have the greatest fun of their lives, the evening was turning to be fairly uninteresting for the youngest audience. The adults had kept Astrael's attention when they discussed topics like agriculture and education, but now it was all gossip, drunk jokes, husbands saying how great their wives were, and wives saying how stupid their husbands were. Moreover, with only the stamina of a one year-old to boast, Astrael was starting to feel tired. He decided to mimic Rina and Rickael, and closed his eyes to indulge in a short nap.

He woke up from his 'nap' at dawn. The first rays of light came through the window, illuminating the bedroom where all the family was. He yawned, checked that his sleeping sister was still tucked in her covers, and stretched.

So, that's something to work on. I can't have twelve hours long naps when I'm supposed to investigate this world.