"Silvera the Rust!" Dorian laughed, shoving Cain into the mud. "Even your name is corroded. My dog has more magic."
But death was not an end. It was a reassignment . The first thing Cain von Silvera noticed was the smell. Not antiseptic, like a hospital, but of hay, woodsmoke, and sour milk. The second was the weight. His limbs were too short, his lungs too weak, and his vision blurred at the edges.
A cynical 21st-century historian, killed in a museum robbery, is reborn as the frail youngest son of a destitute baron in a fantasy world. Armed only with modern strategic theory and a "worthless" heirloom sword that records history, he must rewrite his family's fate before they are erased from the annals of time. Prologue: The Last Entry Subject: Gaius Aurelius Valerius, former Professor of Ancient Warfare, University of Berlin. Time of Death: 11:47 PM. Cause: Stray bullet during a museum heist. The irony of dying for a history he wasn't finished writing was not lost on him. "Silvera the Rust
Cain's heart pounded. The sword didn't store magic. It stored information . Every battle, every negotiation, every failure and success of the Silvera line for three centuries.
He paused, seeing the doubt in their eyes. It was a reassignment
Cain didn't fight back. He simply smiled, wiped the mud from his cheek, and said, "You're right. My magic is worthless. But tell me, Dorian—how many men does your father need to siege a fortified hill fort?"
The Rusted Heirloom
Cain, the infant, stopped crying. His eyes, a pale, watery gray, focused on his father with an intensity no newborn should possess.