Evan woke up before dawn, as he had been doing for the past three days. The rays had not yet penetrated through the heavy velvet curtains of his chambers when he sat up in bed, slowly clenching and unclenching his palms. The body wasn't his, but it was almost docile. The magic of the flame quietly pulsed through his veins like a second blood.
"Milord, do you want breakfast served?" Ilse's voice came from the other side of the door.
"In an hour. And don't let anyone bother you until then."
He walked over to a huge mirror in a carved frame. The reflection showed him a stranger's face-high cheekbones, dark eyes, a scar across one eyebrow. But the most interesting thing was hidden in the memory of this body.
Evan closed his eyes, immersed in the memories of his former master. They came in fragments, like someone else's dream.:
A dim room where a young d'arclent is having a quiet conversation with a masked man...
A hiding place behind a panel in the north wall of the library...
A woman's laugh that he would recognize among thousands of others-Serafina d'laurin...
But the most curious thing is the gaps. Whole periods, like pages torn out of a book. The old Evan was clearly hiding something, even from his own memory.
The lesson that won't happen
When Evan entered the training room, Master Ignatius was already waiting, tapping his scabbard on the stone floor.
"I'm a quarter of an hour late," the old man grumbled. "Just like your predecessor."
Evan stopped, pretending not to take the hint.
"The predecessor?"
"The one you were before the blow to the head. Although," Ignatius gave him an appraising look, "maybe it's even good for you."
They started the standard warm-up routine - basic stances, punches. Evan made mistakes on purpose, but not too obvious ones. It was enough to make the old man grumble, but he didn't suspect the substitution.
"You're still so stupid," Ignatius muttered after another unsuccessful attack. "Although... the movements became more precise. By accident."
Evan just smiled. He had already understood the principle of magic in this world, but it was too early to reveal his cards. Especially considering that someone in this castle clearly knew about the old Evan's double game.
After training, Evan went to the north wing, where, according to his memories, the former owner of the body went especially often. The corridor ended at an inconspicuous door to a utility room.
"My Lord?" A voice came from behind him. Evan turned around. A young servant stood in front of him with a basin of laundry in his hands. "Do you need something?"
"no. Just looking around."
"There are only servants' storerooms here, my lord. Your quarters are in the other wing."
When the servant left, Evan noticed a barely visible scratch on the door handle, a sign that someone had recently used it. But previous memories did not give an answer to what was behind that door.
The library of the House of d'arclents smelled of old parchment and magical herbs. Evan found the Chronicles of Laura, the same book he had read in his previous life. But here it was supplemented with notes in the margins, made by someone's careful hand.
Flipping through the pages, he came across a mention of Serafina d'laurin. Someone had written in the margins: "S. knows more than he's letting on." The handwriting was familiar-his own, or rather, Evan's old handwriting.
"Were you looking for proof of your cowardice?" Kai's voice came from behind him.
Evan didn't close the book.
"I was looking for reasons for a future war. They usually lie in the past."
"Philosophical sentiments? This is new. Kai came closer and looked at the open page. "The House of Ice? An interesting choice to explore."
"Just filling in the gaps in education."
Kai chuckled, but there was something in his eyes that Evan couldn't read-suspicion? Interest?
"Father wants to see you before dinner. He says it's time to discuss yours... a duel."
When his brother left, Evan returned to the book. On the last page, he found a small piece of parchment with one phrase: "They know about mirrors."
Before meeting with his father, Evan inspected his rooms. He paid special attention to the mirror, the one he had looked at in the morning. After careful inspection, he found a barely noticeable mark on the frame-a tiny stylized flame.
"Interesting..." he whispered. His memories suggested that this was the mark of the Flame, a secret society mentioned only in passing in the book. But why did the old Evan mark the mirror? And what do you mean, "they know"?
We haven't received any answers yet. But Evan felt that he was involved in a game, the rules of which he still did not fully understand. And the first move will be tomorrow's meeting with my father.