St Senturion Capital, Inside the palace sickroom, The Third Friday on the Third Month of the Linyuan Calendar.
Riento laid there on the comfortable, and soft bed.
His right arm wrapped fully with bandages, his breathing calm like wind on a sunny day. His left forearm's injuries have already healed by now, turning into scars.
Bandages wrapped around his chest, covering the stab wound.
Then—His breath hitched, eyelids twitching. Before he opened his eyes, staring at the extravagant gold-rimmed ceiling and chandeliers.
"..." His right finger twitched in instinct, he stared at the ceiling above him before his thoughts finally formed.
Why is my right arm numb? What am I doing here? The last thing I remember is fighting that assassin, am I in the infirmary? Gathering his thoughts, Riento contemplated his current situation.
He finally sat up, before grabbing his head with his bandaged left hand in pain. "Ngh." He groaned, as his eyes darted around the room. Searching for other people.
The sickroom? If I remember correctly this should be called a sick room. Just how long has it been since I last fought that man? He asked himself inwardly in confusion at his current situation.
A gust of wind blew past from the open window at the end of the sickroom, Riento's long luscious hair flowing along with the wind.
It had gotten quite long since his transmigration here, an itching feeling suddenly came from his throat. As he coughed.
Where's some rubber? I need to tie my hair up again. It's way too long, how did Riento live with hair longer than this? It's too itchy! He lampooned, searching through the bedside drawers next to him.
He couldn't find any. I should ask Emily for some, she should have at least one. She always tied up her hair.
He pushed aside the blanket, sitting at the edge of the bed.
He curled his toes, standing up soon after. He coughed once more, before he looked at the mirror next to the bedside drawer to where he was laying down.
He wore a nightshirt which its collar was turned-down, with a bedjacket over it, properly defining his figure underneath the clothes.
His blonde and golden hair reached past his shoulders, gently swaying with the wind.
Appearance wise, he hadn't changed much since his transmigration.
Though his eyes lacked the luster it used to have. "..." He kept his mouth closed, though his mind was a different story.
Is this what patients from back then used to wear? It looks much better than the hospital gowns the hospitals make us wear. His thoughts ran all over the place. Before finally setting on his bandaged chest seen under the neckline of his nightshirt.
Turning around, he finally saw that he was the only one in the sickroom. The other beds gently tucked and neat.
That's weird, there should always be one other person sick. Or is the hygiene in this medieval-victorian world mixed?
He let out a sigh, before turning to look at the door.
His maid, Emily. Walked in holding a basket full of fruit, her eyes light up as soon as she saw Riento standing. "Saint! You're awake!"
She smiled, taking fast steps towards riento.
"You shouldn't overwork yourself! Sit down." Emily urged, slightly pushing Riento back onto the bed as she handed him the basket full of fruit.
she then took out a small plate and a kitchen knife as she asked. "Saint, what fruit do you want?"
She smiled. she gave off a radiant warm demeanor.
"Some Mandarin and Apple. Also, Emily. Do you have an extra hair tie? I need to tie my hair." Riento asked, replying to Emily's question.
"Hm? Ah, yes, I do." She replied quickly, as she searched through her pockets before handing Riento one.
He bit the hair tie, gathering his long hair before tying it swiftly into a ponytail. "How long have I been unconscious?"
As Emily cut the apple into pieces, she replied. "It's been about three days, Saint.
"We were quite worried that we wouldn't be able to treat you in time, oh right. Both the Physician and the Priest told me that you shouldn't overwork yourself for the next week after you wake up, and not to injure your right arm again." She added, handing the plate of cut apples and mandarins.
Holding the plate with one hand, he popped a seedless mandarin into his mouth, chewing as he asked "Emily, did you happen to see a black slate somewhere in my room?"
He described the unknown black slate in detail to Emily, hoping she would know.
She stared at his face for a few seconds, searching through her memories of the past three days, when she had to clean up the messy room with the other servants.
"A black slate? Hm, I haven't seen any slate that looks like what you had described, saint." She replied with a clueless look, making Riento look up at her in confusion
Eh? There wasn't any such slate in my room? I clearly remember holding it! It even damaged the assassin if I remember clearly! Riento muttered to himself, chewing another seedless mandarin.
Emily took the basket of fruit on Riento's lap, as she put it on the bedside table. sitting across from Riento on another bed, watching Riento eat.
"Why'd you ask, saint?" She questioned, tilting her head.
Riento looked at her, before sighing. "Nothing, I guess I was just seeing things back then.
"Ah right, don't mind what I just said." He told the youthful emerald-eyed Emily.
He finished the plate before asking. "When did the physician tell you and the others when I can move around again?"
He wanted to search if the black slate was in his room or not. That black slate comes first, it should have been in the strongroom. The spy comes later, it can be proven anytime.
"You should be fine to move around, they said after 3 days it should be fine to walk." She quickly replied, before adding soon after. "Do you want more?"
"No thanks, I need to do something first. Thanks for the fruit Emily." Riento smiled, standing up once more. Grabbing the basket.
"Uh, I'll help you up saint!"
———
Back in Riento's room, now looking brand new and untouched by the previous fights.
"You and the others really did a good job at fixing it up." He complimented with a warm smile.
She smiled at the praise before dismissing it. "Hehe... It isn't that impressive, there were many people helping."
"No, it's really quite impressive." Riento insisted, before gesturing Emily to leave.
She bowed, and gently closed the door behind her.
Finally, alone. Now where is that slate? He quickly looked around the room after the absence of Emily.
His gaze scanned the entire room, not finding any slate. She shouldn't have lied—she has no reason to. So where could it have gone?
He showed an expression of impatience, searching through the entire room once more.
He held his head and groaned at the ache in his legs. His right arm still felt numb, a sharp reminder of why the physician warned him to rest.
That's why the physician told me to rest... Maybe using mana to help my vision would help me find it? After going through all the possible ways of finding the slate, Riento finally formed one possible answer.
Gritting his teeth, he gathered atmospheric mana into his eyes. Looking around the room once more.
There it was, the unknown black slate next to the bedframe where he had let go of it.
He walked forward, as he held the black slate with both hands. Using this chance to take a look at what was engraved on it.
There was a strange engraving of an unknown language on the black slate.
What's this language? He commented, he rubbed his fingers onto the engraving.
Could infusing mana work? He asked himself, as he infused atmospheric mana onto the engraving.
The engraved text began to change, slowly but surely as the amount of mana injected increased.
There was only one sentence.
"Beware the king"
Beware the king? What was that supposed to mean? His eye brows furrowed, looking at the text on the black slate.
"Does this mean I should be on guard against the king or another king?" He let out a sigh, sitting down at the end of his bed.
Staring down at the black slate, he tried injecting more mana but to no avail.
"Hm? Does this mean I need pure mana in my body now?" Using context clues, he formed an answer.
"I basically don't have a choice, I need to gather mana... I need to rest my right arm first before that." He let out a sigh, frowning at the fact he can't gather mana like he wanted because of the assassination three days prior.
The atmospheric mana stored in the slate disappeared into nothing, the undescribable language returning onto the surface.
What does this black slate even do? He stared at the black slate with a blank expression.
He stood back up, walking towards his desk as he put down the black slate. With a single breath, he dispersed the mana he gathered into his eyes.
The black slate disappearing like smoke, like it was never there in the first place.
He tried touching the last place where the slate was, but there was nothing. Weird, I can't touch it anymore. So, only those emitting mana can see and touch it? He speculated.
Right, I still need to do paperwork. He breath out, his shoulders becoming stiff at the thought.
He really didn't want to do it.
Riento rubbed the back of his head in annoyance, as he made a tsk. At the same time, he took of his bedjacket, nightshirt and white trousers. Wearing a more formal attire.
A White Shirt with an upturned collar, a white jacket with an aiguillette on the right shoulder. Black trousers and shoes.
Fixing his appearance. with a hint of reluctance, he left his room.
"Good afternoon, guards." He smiled, as he greeted the two guards outside his room.
"Good afternoon, saint!" Marc and the other guard quickly greeted right after Riento, bowing with their palm to their chests.
Riento looked away, as he walked towards the left hall where the stairs lay.
He greeted the servants he met along the way with a bow, while walking down the long winding stairs he tried to collect the environmental mana in the air into his mana core, but it was suddenly rejected.
His brows furrowed in confusion as he thought.
This world, hm... I can now control atmospheric mana, but why can't I accumulate mana? Everything should be fine. Or is it something that i'm missing? Why did riento's memories have to be fragmented? There's nothing even wrong with his body or brain. Everything was intact. Is it because of the holy core that's in the form of a human's brain?
This is so confusing! Why can't a man accumulate mana! He lamented, ruffling his hair in annoyance.
Only when he was alone was he comfortable enough to act—no, be his usual self.
He was no longer Rowan, nor Riento, he was both! He had fused with the memories of the original riento.
I'll need to sum my knowledge up first. With a sigh, he finally reached the bottom of the stairs, which reached to a whopping 15th floor which really wasn't that high in modern days, but here it really was.
The legs of the people here weren't used to higher elevation.
"Good afternoon, Lyra." Riento greeted the head maid with a bow, she was also a bit older than Emily. But also kept her youthful appearance somehow.
She had white luscious hair, gray eyes that seem to entrance people. She was quite tall, a bit taller than Emily. She seemed to stand about 170cm.
"Good afternoon, Saint." Lyra greeted back with a warm smile, as she seemed to remember something. "Right, Saint, I put the paperwork on your table. Emily informed me you have woken up."
"Don't overwork yourself, Saint."
"Yes, Lyra." He responded, walking past her.
Going inside his room, he once again saw new stacks of paperwork. Ruining his mood at how much there was.
Groaning, he said with annoyance. "Why are there more than when I was in a coma for three weeks?"
He sat behind the desk once more, as he pulled out a notebook he had told Emily to buy him. He was going to use this as a diary!
And to organize his information.
What language should I use? English? The language here is quite similar to the letters of mandarin. But different in meaning.
Opening his notebook, he grabbed a fountain pen as he began writing in English.
"20th March, 563. This new world is quite peculiar, the main language of the church kingdom is Modern Ruvish, both modern and ancient Ruvish are Derived from auram. was it aurum or auram? I think it was aurum. Hm, lucky me. The body I possessed knew a lot of languages.
"Aurum had more languages derived from it like Caelian, Ketheric, Ancient and Modern Ciphren. I believe aurum had a special ability to stir the mana, aura, qi, and holy energy in the air? How do all of these contradictory energies live together in the atmosphere?
"Aura should have ignited qi into bursting flames, mana should have been crushed by qi, and aura should have perished by holy energy. Weird, do they exist in another layer? It's quite confusing.
"Anyways, what I just said right now are derived from the knowledge I got from my body, the saint Riento. It feels like i always knew it, which is unnerving.
"I knew words that I shouldn't have, maybe it came from the memory fragments I merged with? Who knows, oh right. Got side-tracked, back on the topic. Ketheric and Ciphren can also stir the energies in the air. How does that happen though?
"I should research this. I'll end this entry here for now, I don't want to fill the entire notebook up with me rambling on useless things now can I? Hahaha."
He scribbled the last few letters. Letting the ink dry for a few seconds as he thought. Maybe there should be more information on how to accumulate mana and holy energy in the great library.
Today's entry took a full page. He had planned for atleast half a page. Inwardly chuckling, he joked. Guess I got really sidetrack with useless information. Sucks for my future juniors!
He closed the book, putting it back inside the drawer, as he turned his attention back to the paperwork.
When was he going to get these done? With a breath, he grabbed the first document, as he began reading it.
Oh? A diary entry, why is a diary entry here? He commented, a bit shocked. He was expecting more formal and important matters.