Duality - 36 Doubts

First a deep breath, then exhale a bit. Keep a solid stance, feet shoulder-width apart with the left one in front of the right. Heads up, eyes on the target. Automatically, John went through all the motions. With a gloved hand, he nocked the arrow, grasped the bowstring and drew the bow, anchoring the hand against his cheek.

He kept his arm slightly bent at the elbow so that his forearm didn’t get slapped by the bowstring. The scars on his left one were proof that this lesson was learned the hard way.

For the last part, he lined the arrow with the target, tilted it slightly upwards to compensate for gravity and released it.

The whole process wasn’t all that different from firing a gun, which was why he felt a dissonance of sorts over the last step. Instead of building pressure on his fingers, he had to release it.

Regardless, the end result was the same; something dying.

The arrow flew for a second before piercing the target with a wet sound. That apple never stood a chance.

It’s been over three years since John regained his memories. Most of his time has been spent on his training, and it showed. A month prior, he had advanced into a seventh level Fighter, while as a Mage he was already on the third level.

He felt a surge of excitement every time he advanced. Knowing for sure that he would become more powerful was one of the things that kept him going.

Every night he would train his spellcasting, while every day he would spar against his mother. Or almost every day.

Most residents were unaware, but Dene had an official job at the village. One benefit of living in Somerford compared to the Great Plains is that they weren’t actively hated by everyone else.

She worked for the baron as the village’s huntswoman. Not exactly a demanding job, as her main duty was to follow the old man on his hunts, something he never did anymore.

After a close call with a wild stag a few years back, he finally accepted that he was no longer a young man and retired from hunting. Dene was allowed to keep her position, given that he didn’t pay her anyways.

Instead, she made a living by eating or selling whatever she hunted at the forest, which was the main perk of the job. Any other commoner doing the same would be considered a poacher, a crime punishable by death and meted out by Dene on the spot. She only needed to report it to the baron and that was the end of it, any loot from said poachers becoming hers.

This perk didn’t extend to her family, however, so what she did by sending John to hunt would also be punishable by death if discovered by the baron. Well, out of his sight, out of his mind.

Unfortunately, her service to the old man also extended to his family, and that’s why she wasn’t at home. One of his sons entered a pissing match with another noble over who would court some young lady who was probably interested in neither of them.

They settled on a hunt to determine the winner, which meant his mother had to accompany him.

John chose to wait at home and continue his training, which at the moment meant shooting down apples from the orchard behind their home.

His mother wasn’t exactly fond of him choosing to use anything other than the traditional weapons of her tribe, but she respected his decision. Being proficient with more weapons was always better than not.

So besides the twin shortswords, he also got himself a longsword along with the bow and arrow. If in this world, genetics worked as he understood, then he would grow up to be quite tall. It was only fair to make use of this increased reach, hence the longsword.

But regardless of reach, facing opponents in close range always felt wrong. John doubted he could find an M4 around here, so the bow and arrow were the next best thing. Besides, the relative silence allowed him to think about his current situation.

It was weird, to say the least. At times he didn’t know who he was, while other times he felt exactly like himself save for being in a teenager’s body.

Could it be because of the reincarnation? Stupid question; of course it was, but how exactly did that work?

Were both Johns the same person but with different memories? If so, the awakening only served to recover the memories from his past life.

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A darker option was that they weren’t the same person, and adult John took over the body of child John. If so, then what happened to child John?

A third possibility was that they weren’t the same person, and their similarities were something that every person shared with one another. What if, as Locke once wrote, every person was born a tabula rasa, a blank slate molded solely by their experiences and their perception.

It’s not like people back on Earth were reincarnating all the time, so he had nothing to compare against.

And how come he was named John in this world as well? That’s one hell of a coincidence. Locke’s first name was also John; it had nothing to do with the matter at hand, but it was interesting nonetheless.

Even more interesting was this world’s language, Common, spoken by everyone regardless of country, which is already amazing by itself. But what dumbfounded him was the language, or rather languages that were used before the Common. They all sounded similar to languages from Earth.

The four kingdoms’ names, for example, were all descended from the old language. Gwynland feels like English, while Portos brings to mind Portuguese, although it could also be Spanish. Why were languages from Earth in here? How? Could this be not another world, but actually Earth? If so, then what happened to the Earth he knew?

Each new question led to new ones and John lost count of how many times he went down these various rabbit holes only to come out with no answers and a dozen more questions. That’s why he hated philosophy.

There came a rustle of leaves behind John. Not thinking twice, he nocked another arrow as he turned around and shot it.

“Good aiming,” Dene chuckled while holding the arrow by the shaft. “But perhaps you should also mind what you’re aiming at.” She spun the arrow around her fingers while the other hand carried a burlap sack. Its bottom was drenched and dripping blood.

“Good hunt?” John looped the bow over the shoulder and across his body.

“It was fine. That idiot tried to rush a dire bear with a dagger and I had to save him. Now he’s too afraid to hunt again. Like father, like son, I guess.” With a sneer, she dropped the bloody sack by the cottage’s back door.

His mother changed a lot ever since telling her story. Even Edmund from the general store said as much. She’s been… lighter, happy even. Maybe getting it off her chest was what she needed the most.

Well that and seeing Jonathan again, but John had no way of helping with that. Every once in a while she would try to gather news related to house Olsen. There had been no mention of Jonathan. That is, other than the scandal about him attempting to elope with a southerner.

Dene said he was likely imprisoned still, refusing to marry Estrid, the Wynne girl he was supposed to marry. If he truly was as stubborn and honor-bound as she described, then John could imagine that happening.

He knew how much the man meant for his mother. She confided that, more than once, she considered revealing the key she carried around her neck. It could open the Secret Realm’s core area, so maybe it could be traded for Jonathan.

It was a remote possibility. A more likely scenario was she getting killed as soon as she revealed herself. And even so, she still considered the idea.

“At least he won’t be bothering you again anytime soon.”

“Of course, why do you think I let him approach the beast in the first place?” She chuckled again while walking towards the orchard.

There was nothing he could do about his father’s situation. But at least he could try taking his mother’s mind out of it.

“So, did the fruits give you any trouble?” She grabbed one of the apples from the ground. Not bothering to remove the arrow, she took a bite out of it with a crunch. “Tomorrow I’ll take you out hunting. If you’re serious about using that bow, then you should do it against real opponents.”

John nodded and knelt down to pick up the apples.

“Hey,” Dene finally pulled off the arrow from the half-eaten fruit. “We still haven’t sparred today.”

The apple was out of her hand the next moment. It brushed against John’s cheek as he threw his head to the side.

He then jumped back to avoid what he thought would be a punch. Instead, she grabbed and pulled him by the bow still over his shoulder.

John tried to hit her with a punch, but she moved out of the way, leaving just her leg for him to trip over. He barely managed to raise his head so that he didn’t fall face first.

He tried to push up, but Dene’s knee was already against his shoulder blade.

That was his first defeat of the day.