Eitan calmly took in his current condition.
A pain reliever with no recovery aspects. Rather cheap for the son of a count. His torso and arms had bruises all over, while his legs were mostly fine. The worst of the wounds had likely been treated while he was unconscious; all that was remaining were some surface-level abrasions. Enough to still be painful, but nothing that would seriously hinder his movement. He put his robe back on and trashed the bandages before sitting back in the chair.
The bigger problem was the state of his body in the first place. He had a naturally weak constitution, which matched his delicate appearance. He only managed to overcome this through bone-breaking training along with some fortuitous encounters. But the fundamental issue was nothing so simple, something he hadn't managed to fix even with a life's worth of effort.
In this world, a certain energy permeates all things, which humans call mana. Some creatures were blessed to be able to use it according to their will. Depending on the person, mana could manifest in one of two ways. The more common one was aura, which was, in simple terms, the condensation of mana. Then there was the ability granted only to a gifted few, to not just control mana but change its properties, known as magic. The one thing both have in common is that the proficiency in usage depends on a concept known as willpower. Both have their pros and cons, but magic is widely acknowledged as the more highly regarded faculty.
But, of course, if there were the lucky, there were also the unlucky. In Eitan's case, his body was unsuitable for aura. That didn't mean he could use magic like a mage, either. Rather, he was completely and utterly untalented in the usage of mana, period.
He did manage to claw his way up to a high place regardless, but that obviously wasn't high enough. He was still unable to fulfill his goal, no matter how renowned a mercenary he became. However, just because he was unable to do so in his last life didn't mean he couldn't do anything this time around.
In just a bit over ten years, a way of altering the constitution to better accept mana was discovered. The issue was that it only worked for those who hadn't finished developing yet. So for Eitan, who had been in his late twenties at the time, it was nothing more than a pipedream. But it was different now. His body was currently that of a growing teenage boy. Meaning, it was entirely possible to grasp mana in this life!
Eitan calmed himself down with another gulp from the pitcher. At this prospect, he immediately wanted to run out and be on his way, but he couldn't ruin things due to his impatience. At least for now, things needed to follow their original course. If he derailed things the moment he came back to the past, wouldn't all his knowledge of the future become useless?
However, there are still some things I can take care of. He was about to begin planning, but an overwhelming pain in his stomach caused him to double down. His body had finally caught up to the fact that there had been no food in his system for over two days. Ugh, let's deal with everything after Lind brings me that porridge.
He had, of course, gone without eating for extended periods in his past life, but this frail body of his struggled to withstand the pangs of hunger. So, he just sat helplessly until there was a knock on the door.
"Young Master Eitan, I've brought the porridge."
"Bring it to me!" Eitan ordered rather fiercely.
The door swayed open, and Lind appeared holding another tray. He exchanged this one with the other currently on the table. Eitan looked down, and a bowl of plain porridge with a simple spoon greeted his sight. Having long become accustomed to far worse meals in his mercenary days, he scarfed down the gritty porridge without a single complaint.
From the side, Lind eyed Eitan's current actions with a mix of wariness and puzzlement. Although unremarkable, the young master had always maintained an air of noble decorum. But today, a polite way of describing him would be unrefined. The more blunt manner would be no better than a street ruffian.
"Lind," Eitan finally spoke when he finished the meal.
Lind straightened his posture and responded, "Yes, Young Master?" He may have been disrespectful in the past, but that was only because Eitan didn't care to sort him out. Or didn't have the guts to do so. He may act lazy and uncaring most of the time, but Lind knew what attitude to show to those above him.
"When does my father want to see me?"
Lind opened and closed his mouth, unable to hide his surprise. He had just been figuring out how to bring up exactly that. "... As soon as you're able to move around properly."
"Then bring me clothes and let's go." Eitan waved him off.
"... Understood." Lind was certain that Eitan's body had yet to recover to any proper state, but didn't bring up a word of protest. He was just a servant after all; if Eitan decided to push himself, it was none of his business. He went into the closet and soon returned with some formal wear.
Eyeing the ruffled, constricting clothes, Eitan sighed internally. Damn it. This is one thing I did not miss.
As Eitan had no maids assigned to him, Lind was the one who helped him change. No comment was made about the bruises littering his body. After he was done, Lind just handed him a walking stick. "The count is presently in the drawing room."
"Guide me there," Eitan had to admit his memories of the castle layout weren't perfect. He had spent most of his time hiding in his room or the library, after all.
Lind looked at him a bit strangely but went ahead, opening the door for Eitan behind him. Eitan braced himself on the walking stick as he headed into the halls. His body was feeling a bit better after the medicine and food, but his innate weakness, coupled with his injuries, still left him struggling to walk. However, he kept his back straight and eyes forward as he followed Lind.
After quite a few twists and turns, they eventually came to a halt in front of a door. Lind stepped forward and knocked politely. "Your Lordship, the third young master has come to see you."
"Enter," a cold, strong voice came from inside the room.
Father…! How many years had it been since he last heard this voice? In the past, hearing his father's tone would cause him to tremble, but now, all it did was make his heartbeat quicken. He may have been a cruel and calculating man, but his true nature was revealed in the end. This ever-proud Reidar knelt before the enemy to beg for his children's lives. As all he got in return was jeers, that scene was forever engraved in Eitan's mind as fuel for his vengeance.
Eitan pulled himself out of his remembrance as the door opened. He stepped inside and used his cane to support himself in a bow. "... Eitan Reidar greets the count."
"Do you know what you've done wrong?" Everade stared down at Eitan from his seat across the table.
Eitan lowered his head and closed his eyes, saying nothing. He could kneel in repentance for shaming the family, or instead blame his brother and demand a rematch. With his skills, it would be a walk in the park even with his body in this state. My only sin at this time was being weak. Now, Father wants me to step up and prove myself. He had later realized that every cruelty his father had committed towards him was done in the vain hope that he would mature as a proper Reidar. But he would do no such thing. He would meekly accept exile, staying low until it was truly his time to shine.
Everade's eyes shone with disappointment as he gazed at his silent youngest son. "... I see. As punishment for bringing shame to the family's name, you shall be sent to the Saoirse Region. The date of departure will be two weeks from today. You shall be accompanied by a platoon of twenty soldiers, led by Sir Aengus, and be provided one carriage of supplies. Do you have any objections?"
"None," Eitan's voice was steady despite his fluctuating emotions. In the past, or rather, the future, half of the platoon will be decimated, and Sir Aengus will sacrifice his life to see Eitan safe from the assassins. This was the first life given in exchange for his, and the one that weighed on Eitan the most. I won't let such a thing occur again.
Everade's expression didn't change, but if one looked closely, they could see his fingers curling. "Be off then."
Eitan bowed one more time before exiting the room to see Lind staring at him nervously. "Are you really going–"
Eitan ignored him and moved straight in the direction of his room. This reaction caused Lind to fall silent, and he followed behind him without another peep. The only sound that could be heard in the halls was the quiet clacking of a walking stick.
Once he was back in his room, Eitan sent Lind off before crumpling onto his bed. Two weeks. That's all the time I have to prepare. Although his body was immobile, his mind was not.
There were two main issues to be solved at the moment. First and most importantly, his ability to use mana. Secondly, gaining the power to fend off the assassins without any casualties.
Even if he completed the first, which was nigh impossible with his current resources, he wasn't completely confident in assuring the second. Even with mana, his current body was in no state to take on over a dozen elite killers while ensuring the safety of others. Stopping the request in the first place was also an option, but that would require him to reveal himself to his family. After all, the requester was none other than his father's wife, Countess Kathryn Reidar. She wanted to eliminate the stain on the family, as well as deal with a potential threat to her biological sons. It was killing two birds with one stone.
But it's far too early for me to expose what I know. Eitan was too weak right now. If he went and confronted the countess, rather than stopping the assassins, she might instead become all the more determined to kill him. In addition, he lacked any evidence, so reporting her to the count was a no-go as well.
Eitan rubbed his head. The priority is obviously to strengthen myself, but time is too tight. I need some kind of external force. He began digging into his aged memories to find something, or someone, that could fit the bill. What's in the county at this time that I could possibly- ah. A smile spread across Eitan's face. There was that man.
A man who became distinguished in the territorial war that tore his family apart. Farrel Falkur, the former knight captain of Ormund County. Ironically, he fought on the side of the Reidars. Eitan had fought alongside him a few times, and he was actually one of the first inspirations for Mercenary King Elron's fighting style. As for the level of personal connection, in a place where tomorrow was not certain, many men would gladly share their deepest stories with those who shared their todays. Farrel was naturally no different.
Farrel had a beautiful daughter whom he cherished very much. However, one day, she was kidnapped while walking on the street. Farrel searched crazily for her, only to find her lifeless and abused body dumped in the slums. Outraged, he mobilized the knights to find the culprits. However, Count Ormund was displeased by his unauthorized actions and reprimanded him severely. Unable to tolerate it, Farrel quit the knights and left to track down the culprits on his own. However, his search went stale, so he began traveling around in hopes of finding any kind of clues. He eventually caught their tails in Reidar County, where the culprits were revealed to be a criminal syndicate that resided in Reidar but had their roots in Ormund. Specifically, they were tied to the count's eldest son.
After exterminating the syndicate, Farrel sought revenge on his previous employers. However, what could one man do against a county? He was forced to quietly simmer in Reidar until his opportunity arose, the war. He fought fiercely against the Ormunds and did manage to kill the heir, but it came at the high price of his own life.
He should have arrived in Reidar just recently. Eitan didn't know the exact timeline, but according to past accounts, he was pretty sure Farrel could currently be found somewhere in the slums of Reidar's capital. One week. I must find him within that time. He would also need to spend some time winning his trust and then pulling Farrel under him. So, one week to locate him and one week to win his loyalty. A seemingly impossible schedule, but Eitan had to make it work. I'll train myself by day and search for him by night.
This would also serve as preparation to become able to use mana. It wasn't a particularly difficult method, but the monetary requirements were immense. He could obtain some of the materials by leveraging his position as the count's son, but the rarer ones would have to be sought out personally or bought from outside sources. Since they're a pretty big syndicate, they should have a lot of money, right? Eitan licked his lips at the prospect. Now, this is what I call two birds with one stone.