Chapter 2: Church Orphan

I had a dream last night.

I remember falling off a building head-first. Just as the tip of my hair touched the ground, I could have sworn I saw a blue flash reflecting off my pupil. Whatever had happened, must have explained why I now reside in this small child.

Of course, after the first week, those dreams faded away, as I struggled to survive.

It took me a while to figure out the language of these people, but they seemed to speak the gibberish version of English, as to why, I wasn't sure.

"Nothelm! Get off your bed for supper!" An old crone yelled.

Barely grasping her words, I stuffed my head with the raggy blanket used as a bedcover from the prickly straws but felt as though the weight of my choices to either keep the hay from flying everywhere or the ignorant bliss of these gibberish English.

Speaking of, I don't recall the old dialect of the language. I know English originated from the United Kingdom, but judging by the technology and civilized society, it gives off a medieval vibe. Not to mention the wretched odor from these people.

In fact, the smell seems even stronger.

"Nothelm! You get up this instant before I pull your ear right off!" The old nun entered my room. Her name was Domne, and she works as the headmistress of this church, though my experience with nuns of the modern era seemed more tame than what I am about to experience.

"Just one more minute, I wanna wake up from this nightmare."

"If you don't get off the bed this instant, I'll see you will be whipped for your slothfulness!"

"Oh shit, I'm up, I'm up!"

Quickly scurrying away from the hag, I burst through the door.

Of course, I wasn't the only orphan in the church. A few glanced at me, but I was far more concerned with the old nun holding up a stick.

As I entered the dining hall, already my peers made a nasty look at me. They must've waited pretty long for me to get off my sorry excuse of a bed.

"At last, our last child has arrived, now he can join us in prayer." The old man smiled.

Father Donavic is in charge of the church that the bishop assigned, though I didn't catch his name.

The table was already occupied by the other children, so I had to squeeze between them.

Folding our hands together, Father Donavic began his speech.

"Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen." Then followed by a sign of the cross, signal the chow time.

Of course, the meal only consists of what seems to be bread and porridge, though the latter seemed unappealing and uneasy to the stomach.

Nevertheless, each orphan was given a slice of bread and a scoopful of this slimy substance I could only bear the dry hard dough through my teeth. I gave away my bowl to someone beside me giving me the stink eye, seeing that he was much larger than me in stature.

"We give Thee thanks, Almighty God, for all Thy benefits, Who live and reign forever and ever. Amen." Father Donavic ended.

Eventually, after breakfast, the nuns round us up, splitting the girls and boys respectively.

For the girls, they're tasked to handle the laundry, help the kitchen, and tidy the church, with a bonus of a small gathering to knit dolls or broaches. The boys on the other hand have to get the fuck out of the house and start earning what they called 'charity' since god almighty value diligence and being good to your neighbor.

Since this is the past, it didn't occur to me how privileged I was to be dragged to school, sit on a chair, and listen for hours to a lecture, only to head back home and gouge into the internet.

"C'mon idiot! Everyone is already carrying more than you do!"

Marching with stacks of twigs behind my back, I struggled to understand if these retards ever considered someone that small could do what they expect to do?

Not to mention most of the ground is nothing but overgrown grasslands, being stomped into the soggy mud, making it difficult with a stubble leather unevenly fit into my feet.

However, it did give me a chance to take a good look around my surroundings, with the village encased with wooden walls, small huts made of either dirt or timber, and what seemed to be a paved road that leads in and out the village entrance.

Now, the last one is just as important, suggesting that it may be connected with other towns or villages. Though I'm no expert in hypothesizing how organized this period is in maintenance, I could tell this village seemed decent enough to hold a decent harvest. This will be perfect if I need to leave the village, as long as there won't be someone of authority trying to keep peasants from leaving.

Speaking of which, I don't know if this village has a guard or a lord, but I feel as though they might reside in that big hall in the middle of the village. Probably explains why I smell some meat over there. 

"We're almost there!" one of the boys shouted.

Quickly returning my face forward, we approached what seemed to be a small smithery, with a cracked anvil being abused by each strike of a hammer falling.

The middle-aged man seems to be the village's blacksmith, busy with his craft folding a chunk of iron into a horseshoe.

He wasn't alone. Two other men don't seem to be his apprentices, since they seemed more or less well off from what I saw from the other villagers. Though they kept their arms well hidden, I could see the hilt of the sword peeking out from the scabbard. One of the men

turned his head towards us.

"Ah, the church's orphans. What took you brats so long? The master smith needs more wood than that!" the man shouted as he walked before us.

The other kids seemed skittish. The first time I arrived into this world, I barely comprehend their language without having my ass slapped by the nun. This was the first time I was allowed to leave the church without being burned for speaking the devil's language.

"We tried to be quick! It's just that we could barely find any branches without going deeper into the woods!" the tallest of our group yelped.

The man glanced at his back, checking the contents.

The branches he carried are thicker than I have, but they were soaked from the rain last night, some of which are covered in mud.

"These twigs will kill the fire, boy! Are you trying to ruin the forge with this shit? Go back out there and get new ones!"

"But there's not enough branches on the ground, we-"

"Oi Hemmark, the weather isn't in our favor today. I'm sure Father Donavic only wants the youth to be helpful. Saves me the trouble of wasting coins on fancy timber." The bald man straightens his back and rubs his charcoal hands with a rag. It seems the blacksmith seemed more sympathetic, seeing how skinny we are.

"Johbric, if I let these kids have their way, there's no telling what else they'll do. These are orphans after all." The man retorts.

Just as I expected, it seems even in the medieval period, children without parents were considered outcasts. When winter comes and harvests are too few for mouths to feed, we're most likely to first to go. Those who are accepted into the church on the other hand may as well win the jackpot in life, that is until they are of age.

"You know as well as I do that some of their fathers are nothing but trouble, thieving bastards and the like of their ilk. Their mothers may have well opened their legs for a petty coin, though I'm not complaining." He jest.

"My father is not a criminal!" The boy to my left burst.

I remember hearing his name was Egmund, who lost his mother to a severe injury recently.

"He was a good farmer who grew a lot of wheat outside! My father did nothing wrong!"

Hemmark turned his body as he rested his right hand on the hilt.

"Oh? Who's father was yours? I can see your features resemble a little bit of that coward who got scared by a mare. What was his name... Edward?"

"My father did not run away! he's trying to get the medicine so mother feels better! He said so himself, he even took our coins so that he can buy some for mother! He is not a criminal!"

"Hah, so that's why the hut seemed empty. The man really did run off with all the copper. Seeing that he left his son here, I'd say he's off for a harlot's grace!" He laughed.

Observing his posture, I could only assume he wasn't taking a hostile stance. Though his behavior may say otherwise, he doesn't see us as much of a threat.

The boy starts crying, but the man continues.

"I've been to the other villages. It only takes a few days on horse to reach the city. How long did your father left? Was it a week, no almost a month by now seeing how the leaves are turning brown and the air feels chilly."

"Enough Hemmark, better to leave the boy to his solemn than to mock his plight." The other man finally spoke. He had an accent that was too distinct, but I couldn't quite put my finger into it.

Though his beard covers the majority of his face, I can see a couple of scars of a cut. He must have been a veteran.

"Bah, I'm going soft on them. I need a drink." Hemmark starts walking away.

"Where are you going? The chief told us to remain until the smith starts working on the saddle."

"I'm not going too far, Ruvic. I'm just heading back to the hall for grubs. I thought you Norsemen like to drink and brawl before a good pillaging."

Jolting my head back to the bearded man.

Norsemen? Aren't they Vikings, renowned for being the iconic raiders of the medieval ages? Known to wield dual axes and charge straight at the enemy head?!

I must have stared too long because immediately after I turned my head, he fixed his eyes on me.

"What?" The man said.

"Nothing!" I squeaked.

If I know anything about medieval warriors, it is that they are often the most batshit crazy than the average man. There's a reason why they're more often painted in portraits than a dead peasant farming away the harvest.

"Hmmph, Leave the sticks there and scram!"

Immediately taking my chances, I drop my share at the corner. The others followed suit as they quickly ran off back into the church's stone walls.

"Heh, clever bunch." Johbric kneeled to the sticks, scavaging whatever wood can burn.

"Most of them are scared newborns."

"Well, they are children, Ruvic. How else are they going to react to a giant man after hearing what Hemmark said."

"That is not the case for one of them..."

"Oh?"