89 AC
By the time I turned 3, I could speak as well as any 6-year-old. Then I started learning how to write—I didn't want to grow up illiterate like some poor hedge knight who can't even scribble his name. The system's knowledge of language helped, sure, but I didn't want to come off as some demon child who could write perfect sentences straight out of the womb.
It was already suspicious enough that I talked like a 6-year-old at 3. Most kids my age couldn't string three sentences together without drooling mid-syllable.
On my third birthday, I asked my mother to teach me how to write. I don't know how, but she actually could—turns out, she's one of the rare literate smallfolk in King's Landing. Apparently, that bakery ledger wasn't going to balance itself.
Learning was… boring. Painfully boring. I wasn't learning anything new, just pretending to learn fast. But it helped pass time. I couldn't train seriously yet, couldn't make real connections yet—other kids my age were just future background characters at best.
After two months of pretending not to fall asleep mid-lesson, I could finally write full sentences. I knew all the characters in the Common Tongue, which would've been impressive even for a 5-year-old. My family was amazed, though they were a little hesitant about the whole "future maester" thing. They wanted grandkids someday, not celibate scholars.
Toward the end of the year, I started practicing with a wooden sword. And by wooden sword, I mean a broken piece of table leg I found behind the bakery. But hey—it's not about the equipment, it's about the grind.
I figured I'd lay some foundation before asking Uncle Erryk to take me on as a page. Noble kids usually start at 6, but why wait? I had a system, a plan, and enough energy to make a septa weep.
90 AC
After 5 months of swinging that splintered stick around, I finally asked Uncle Erryk about training me. I didn't expect a yes—just wanted to plant the seed. He laughed, patted my head, and told me to wait two more years. Expected. But now he knew I was serious.
Business at the bakery was still going strong. I started eating more veggies to bulk up naturally. No protein powder in Westeros, just lentils, greens, and sheer willpower. I also wanted to build the habit of long training hours—stamina is king in the long game.
After training, I'd head back to the shop and help my dad with accounts. I wasn't even 4 yet (April, birthday's in June), but I could add and subtract faster than most apprentices. My dad was skeptical at first but started letting me help under his supervision.
When June came, I invited Uncle Erryk to my birthday party. Calculated move—birthday wishes are harder to deny. He just laughed again and told me to wait till I'm 6. But I could see it in his eyes—he was impressed. I knew I'd convince him next year.
Becoming a page before 6 is rare, but so is being reborn with a system and a grudge against mediocrity.