Through his semi-conscious state, Victor heard voices. His awareness drifted as if he were floating in water with nothing to grab onto. The voices became clearer and louder, drawing closer to him.
After some time, he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, but it was utterly unfamiliar to him. Above his bed hung some kind of canopy.
Victor turned his head to the left and saw a girl sitting on a chair by the wall.
She wore ancient-looking maid's clothes… Judging by her appearance was tricky, but she could be called pretty: pale skin, delicate facial features, and that was it…
Victor attempted to utter words, but could only emit raspy sounds.
The girl sprang up from the chair, rushed to him, and immediately began tearfully murmuring something in an unfamiliar tongue.
«This seems like some kind of cosplay. Is she performing a role?» — he mused to himself.
In the next instant, a massive surge of information flooded Victor's mind. It was as if he were watching a video on fast-forward, accompanied by mixed emotions he couldn't control. Simultaneously, he felt grief, joy, tears, laughter, and anger.
After a while, everything ceased, and the information began to settle.
Gradually, he comprehended what was happening: this was no longer planet Earth. This world was called Limeya. A world filled with magic, magical creatures, and even entire wizarding civilizations.
The place he found himself in was the home of Count Alexander Shermanin, one of the six counts of the Kingdom of Lantaris. And he, Victor, inhabited the body of the count's son, Victor Shermanin—his firstborn and also his disgrace.
In this world, there was not just aristocracy, but also magic… It was a world of swords and sorcery, but fate had dealt Victor a harsh blow: he was born without magic, which was practically unimaginable in a world where even commoners possessed some, albeit minor, power.
After testing for magic at the age of six, his father had sent him to live in a rural estate, effectively forgetting about him. Throughout those years, he was cared for by servants, including a young maid named Lulu, who had been with him since childhood.
Staring at weeping Lulu, Victor suddenly understood what the girl was saying.
— Young Master, you've finally awoken, wuuuu, — she cried, tears streaming from her big green eyes.
«She thinks I'm her master? Perhaps I should play along. If I tell them I'm from another world, they might burn me at the stake. What do I really have to lose? On Earth, I was a nobody. Graduated from technical college, didn't even have money to enter a proper university. Mom died because I couldn't find the funds to transfer her to a proper hospital, and she was treated in a pitiful facility with no proper equipment!» — Victor contemplated his former miserable existence, in which nothing remained.
«Here, maybe I'm not a great mage, but at least I'm a count's son. At worst, I won't starve, and I even have servants. Damn! I could live my whole life in luxury!» — he thought, smiling.
— Lulu, what happened? — he asked, sipping water from the cup the maid brought.
— Young Master, you lost consciousness a month ago. Nobody knows why, — she answered, bursting into tears again.
Victor reached out and caressed her head, making her cry even harder. Eventually calming down, she darted out and returned five minutes later with a man. About fifty years old, with gray hair and sharp facial features, he stood lean and around 180 centimeters tall.
Clad in a black tailcoat, he stood rigidly upright, as if he had swallowed a stick.
Victor's memory instantly supplied the man's name — Jinn, the Shermanin family butler.
The elderly man approached the bedside and bowed slightly to Victor.
— Young Master, I'm delighted to see you awake, — he said, his eyes glistening with slight moisture.
In Victor's memory, this old man had always been kind to the body's original inhabitant, constantly caring for him.
— Thanks, Jinn, I'm feeling much better, — Victor replied calmly. — Has anything happened while I was unconscious?
— No, Young Master, nothing happened, — the old man answered dryly.
Lying in bed, Victor gradually regained his senses from the transmigration experience.
— Get me some food, I'm famished, — he ordered after a brief pause.
Lulu dashed out of the room, drawing a reproachful stare from the butler.
— That maid will never learn manners, Sir, — the old man shook his head.
— It's okay, there's no one here to impress with decorum, — Victor responded.
Half an hour later, Lulu returned pushing a cart topped with dishes covered by a metallic lid.
Victor was propped up in bed, a small table was placed in front of him, and plates were laid out. Service like this was unlikely to be found even in the finest earthly hotels. Victor picked up utensils and, under the watchful gaze of Lulu and Jinn, began slicing a steak.
Although eating meat right after waking from a coma seemed absurd, the young man couldn't deny himself the pleasure of tasting it, and as soon as everything was prepared, he placed a tender piece in his mouth.
The taste was divine; Victor rarely indulged in meat on Earth, let alone such steaks.
Sadly, he couldn't eat properly—weakness in his body prevented him from even holding the fork correctly.
After futile attempts to stuff himself, the young man finally dropped the utensils, exhausted, and fell asleep.
When he woke up, it was already dark outside, and another girl, apparently also a maid, sat on a chair beside his bed.
Victor refrained from waking her and began reflecting on his new circumstances.
«In this world, I'm a count's son, and if the aristocracy here resembles Earth's, they probably won't abandon me. Likely, they'll keep me out of sight, but their status won't allow treating me like a commoner. Aristocrats cherish lineage—it proves their uniqueness compared to commoners.»
Bloodlines, education, etiquette—everything existed to prevent commoners from realizing they weren't fundamentally different.
«So, I guess I can live here carefree, always able to find something to occupy myself. Maids here are beautiful, too—entertainment-wise, I've got options!»
He strained to move his arms, but it was tough. The body's original owner wasn't physically strong even before the coma, and afterward, things worsened.
Victor reviewed everything he'd absorbed from the previous owner's memories, working to replicate speech patterns, movements, and habits.
After a couple of hours of such exercise, he collapsed again, exhausted.
Opening his eyes, he saw Lulu standing by his bed, staring attentively at him sleeping.
— What are you doing, Lulu? — he asked weakly.
— I'm listening to your breathing, afraid you might slip back into unconsciousness, — she smiled.
— Don't worry, it won't happen again, — he mumbled.
Immediately, she fetched food from the cart and rearranged everything in front of him. This time, he managed to eat properly and even got up from bed with Lulu's help, taking a subsequent walk around the room.
For the next two weeks, his routine resembled rehabilitation: meals, rest, exercises—repeated daily.
One dull day, a knock came at his door. The butler entered, bringing a message from his father demanding his presence at the family estate in seven days.
Victor tried to guess why, after thirteen years of exile, he was suddenly needed again, and frankly speaking, he doubted it would bring anything good.
The young man informed the butler about the upcoming trip, and the latter immediately began preparations. Considering that the journey would take three days, plus one more day of rest at the estate before meeting his father, supplies needed to last for four days. That's how things worked. You couldn't travel straight from the road to a meeting unless it was urgent.
Everything had its rules, and without the memories of the previous owner, it would have been quite confusing.
Early in the morning, he was dressed in travel clothes, which, despite their name, looked overly elaborate, much like the carriage he was placed in.
Frankly speaking, everything seemed excessive: embellished clothing with ribbons and folds everywhere. He was given shiny leather shoes with high heels, pants that resembled shorts tucked into knee-high socks, a coat embroidered with golden threads, and finishing it all off was a hat with triangular edges.
In this outfit, he felt like a clown, as if he had dressed up for a circus performance. Compared to him, even the butler's attire looked more elegant.
Jinn wore plain black trousers, black shoes, and a tuxedo with a bow tie.
Feeling irritated inside, Victor climbed into the carriage, guarded by six soldiers and one knight, and the carriage rolled toward the capital of the county.
En route, they stopped in small towns where he regularly received letters from local nobility inviting him to banquets or tea parties—some even visited in person.
Needless to say, no one personally cared about the "disgrace" of the count. Interest in him stemmed solely from his father, and it was merely an attempt by lower-class nobility to connect with higher-status individuals.
Rules in this world were strict: if a count like Shermanin invited you to his feast, you couldn't talk to him, even if you were standing a meter away, unless he addressed you first.
Lower-class nobility included everyone from viscounts and barons to baronets and knights, whereas upper-class nobility consisted of counts, marquesses, dukes, and, of course, royalty.
Complications arose because, in this particular kingdom, a duke and duchess ranked above a marquis, but the eldest son of a duke was below a marquis in hierarchy. Similarly, a marquis outranked a count, but his son was below the same count.
Elsewhere, a marquis was the son of a duke and didn't represent a separate noble house.
This confusion was exacerbated by the fact that no count would dare treat the eldest son of a marquis as lower class, especially since in the world of magic, such a son might prove stronger than his father.
Enter connections and relationships: how you were introduced, who did the presenting, the impression made by your family, and your accomplishments.
A pile of complexities often baffled even the nobility themselves, let alone commoners who had no clue about such subtleties.
Simultaneously, the royal family constituted the highest level of nobility, yet they weren't exceptional in any way.
Generally speaking, they had seized fertile lands long ago, gathered a stronger army than others, established close familial bonds with influential houses, thereby earning the right to rule.
Being special nobility, they were equal to everyone else in this category. However, only members of their family could become king. If the lineage broke, it would lead to national turmoil, with everyone vying to become the next ruler.
The royal status ensured wealth and peace over their territories, as no other noble would dare attack royal lands, unlike other aristocrats constantly fighting over every plot of fertile soil.
Considering all this, Victor travelled in a carriage without suspension, identical to a simple farmer's cart, except for the luxurious decoration.
Inside, cushions filled the interior, where he sat, contemplating his future in this new world. What exactly should he do next?
Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted.
— Attack! Protect the master! — the knight's cries reverberated outside.
«Are we under attack? Will I die again, barely leaving my estate? Damn it, I should have pretended to be sick and declined!» — Victor panicked, wondering what was happening, hearing the sound of swords clashing outside.
In an instant, the carriage door swung open. A man in a mask covering the bottom half of his face, armed with a short sword, stood in the doorway. Catching sight of him, Victor scrambled out of the carriage through the opposite door.
Glancing around, he saw no one pursuing him. Scanning the area, he counted about twelve bandits; seven lay dead, and three of his soldiers had already been killed. Only the knight and the remaining soldiers were engaged in combat.
The guards were junior contact mages known as "novices" in this world, while the knight was at the highest bronze level.
Knights in this continent were divided into levels ranging from novice to legendary, with an additional rank called "Eternal Radiance," which was spoken of only in legends.
Each rank had four stages: lowest, medium, highest, and peak.
True mages existed separately, with similar divisions, but unlike knights, they fought spells from afar.
As the useless son of a count, his most skilled defender was merely a high-level bronze knight, who, nevertheless, now looked heroic to Victor, fighting multiple enemies simultaneously.
Getting up, Victor tried to retrieve a heavy two-handed sword from the ground behind his soldiers, but it was too weighty for his weakened body.
Abandoning the attempt, he searched for somewhere to hide, spotting the supply carriage nearby and rushing toward it.
Before he could reach it, a bandit blocked his path, brandishing his sword. Left with no choice, Victor instinctively raised his hands to block the incoming strike, closing his eyes. Instead of pain, he heard the clang of metal striking metal. When he opened his eyes, he saw a giant shield attached to his arm.
He stared at the shield, measuring at least one-and-a-half meters long and seventy centimeters wide, covered in glowing patterns. Despite appearing heavy, it weighed nothing.
Realizing the attacker's bewilderment, Victor stood up and discovered he was clutching a colossal two-handed hammer in his right hand. Even though the shield looked heavy, the hammer seemed impossibly lighter… Yet he effortlessly held it.
Clearing his mind, Victor experimented, swinging the hammer casually. The stunned bandit tried blocking the mighty weapon with his sword. But visually, the impact was bizarre: the hammer looked as if it weighed half a ton, yet the blow felt like a flick of a twig. In the next moment, the hammer smashed into the bandit's arms, crushing them instantly. Then it struck his head, followed by the rest of his body. The result was a bloody mess of human flesh.
— What the hell was that?! — Victor exclaimed loudly, bewildered by what had just happened.
Remembering his surroundings, he quickly spun around and saw only his knight and one remaining soldier standing, both drenched in blood and visibly exhausted. Unfortunately, eight bandits still stood, ready to fight.
Without hesitation, Victor rushed toward them. His newfound strength and armor gave him confidence that he was not just a spectator here, and perhaps fate wasn't as cruel to him as he initially thought.