The next morning, Neil reported to the herb garden after breakfast. Brother Tomas, the gardener, was a middle-aged man with a perpetual stoop and dirt-stained hands. His weathered face creased into a frown as Neil approached.
"So you're the boy who's made a miraculous recovery," he said, eyeing Neil skeptically. "Matron Helsa says you're to help me with the herbs."
"Yes, Brother," Neil replied respectfully. "I've been reading about herbalism. I'd like to learn more."
Brother Tomas grunted. "Reading is one thing. Growing is another. These plants need careful tending—the right soil, the right amount of water, protection from pests. It's not something you learn from books alone."
"I understand," Neil said. "I'm willing to learn by doing."
The gardener studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. We'll start with weeding. Can't have these little invaders stealing nutrients from our medicinal plants."
He handed Neil a small trowel and pointed to a section of the garden where delicate green shoots were interspersed with unwanted growth. "Pull the weeds, not the herbs. If you're not sure which is which, ask before you pull."
Neil knelt beside the garden bed, examining the plants carefully. Some were clearly weeds—wild, aggressive growth with no apparent pattern. Others were planted in neat rows, their leaves distinctive and purposeful.
As he focused on a particular plant with silver-edged leaves, the interface flickered:
The information was basic but useful. Neil carefully worked around the silvermint, removing the weeds while leaving the medicinal plant untouched.
Brother Tomas watched him work for a while, then seemed satisfied. "You have a gentle touch with the plants. That's good. Many boys your age are too rough, too impatient."
"I find it peaceful," Neil said truthfully. After the noise and chaos of the dormitory, the quiet garden was a welcome respite.
"Hmm." Brother Tomas knelt beside him, pointing to the silvermint. "Do you know what this is?"
"Silvermint," Neil answered, relying on the interface's identification. "It helps with breathing problems."
Brother Tomas raised an eyebrow. "You have been reading. Yes, silvermint tea is excellent for clearing congestion and easing breathing. We used it in your treatments during your illness."
Neil nodded, filing away this information. So the original Neil had been treated with herbs from this very garden. Perhaps that explained his interest in herbalism.
"What about this one?" Brother Tomas pointed to a plant with star-shaped leaves.
Neil focused on it, but the interface remained silent. "I don't know," he admitted.
"Starleaf," Brother Tomas said. "Good for headaches and fever. And this—" he indicated a plant with purple flowers, "—is nightbloom. Its roots can be ground into a powder that helps with sleep troubles."
Throughout the morning, Brother Tomas continued this impromptu lesson, pointing out different herbs and explaining their properties. Neil absorbed the information eagerly, noting which plants triggered recognition from the interface and which didn't.
By midday, his hands were dirty and his back ached from bending over the garden beds, but he felt a sense of accomplishment. He had learned the names and basic properties of over a dozen medicinal herbs, and Brother Tomas seemed pleased with his work.
"You've done well for your first day," the gardener said as they washed their hands at the garden pump. "Come back tomorrow, and I'll show you how we dry and store the herbs for winter use."
"Thank you, Brother Tomas," Neil said. "I'd like that."
As he walked back to the main building for the midday meal, Neil reflected on the morning's work. Herbalism might seem like a humble pursuit compared to his former life as a CEO, but it offered practical knowledge in this world. And if magic was real here, perhaps these plants had properties beyond their basic medicinal uses.
The interface flickered:
So the system was tracking his skill development. Interesting, but not surprising. If this interface was meant to help him adapt to this world, monitoring his progress made sense.
During lunch, Neil sat alone, observing the other orphans. Most ignored him, though a few cast curious glances his way. His sudden recovery and changed demeanor had clearly not gone unnoticed.
Thomas Reed approached his table, tray in hand. "Mind if I sit?"
Neil gestured to the empty seat across from him. "Go ahead."
Thomas set down his tray and studied Neil's face. "You really are different," he said quietly. "It's not just my imagination."
Neil tensed. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know. You carry yourself differently. You speak differently. Even the way you eat is different—more… deliberate." Thomas leaned forward. "What happened to you during that fever?"
Neil considered his options. Thomas was observant—dangerously so. But perhaps that made him a potential ally rather than a threat.
"I had… dreams," Neil said carefully. "Very vivid dreams. They changed me."
It wasn't entirely a lie. From the perspective of this world, his memories of Earth and his former life could be interpreted as fever dreams.
Thomas nodded slowly. "My grandmother used to say that high fevers can open doorways in the mind. That sometimes, people come back different."
"Do you believe that?" Neil asked.
"I don't know. But I believe something happened to you." Thomas took a bite of his bread, chewing thoughtfully. "You were always quiet, always sick. Now you're… I don't know. More present. More aware."
Neil smiled slightly. "Is that a bad thing?"
"No," Thomas admitted. "Just different." He hesitated, then added, "You know, if you need help catching up with lessons or anything, I could help. I take good notes."
"I'd appreciate that," Neil said, recognizing the olive branch for what it was. "Thank you, Thomas."
After lunch, Neil had his first lessons since his illness. The classroom was a large room with rows of wooden desks facing a blackboard. About twenty boys of various ages sat at the desks, with the youngest around ten and the oldest perhaps fifteen.
Brother Michael, the history teacher, was a tall, thin man with a monotonous voice that seemed designed to induce sleep. He droned on about the Unification Treaty, just as Thomas had mentioned, while the boys struggled to stay awake.
Neil found himself fascinated despite the dry delivery. The treaty had apparently ended centuries of conflict between various kingdoms, creating the unified Kingdom of Eldoria. The wizard guilds had played a crucial role in brokering the peace, using their influence to bring the warring factions to the negotiating table.
As Brother Michael spoke, Neil's interface occasionally provided brief clarifications:
The information was basic but helpful in contextualizing what he was hearing. Neil took careful notes, trying to piece together a coherent understanding of this world's history and power structures.
After history came mathematics, taught by a stern-faced woman named Sister Martha. The level was basic—simple algebra and geometry—but Neil was surprised to find that the mathematical principles were identical to those on Earth. The interface remained silent during this lesson, suggesting there was nothing unique or world-specific about the content.
The final lesson of the day was reading and writing, taught by Matron Helsa herself. The class was reading a collection of folk tales, which Neil found particularly valuable for the cultural insights they provided. Many of the stories featured wizards, magical creatures, and moral lessons about the proper use of power.
One tale in particular caught his attention—the story of a young apprentice wizard who discovered a new way to visualize magic, revolutionizing certain spells. The interface flickered briefly:
So the folk tale had some basis in historical fact. Neil made a mental note to look for more information about this Elian and his visualization techniques.
After classes ended, Neil had an hour before dinner. He returned to the library, searching for books on magical theory or practice. He found very little—a few basic primers on magical history, but nothing about the actual mechanics of magic.
This wasn't surprising. If magical potential awakened at sixteen, there would be little point in teaching the younger orphans about its practical applications. Still, it was frustrating. Neil wanted to prepare for his own Awakening, but he lacked the necessary information.
He did find one slim volume titled "Preparing for Awakening: A Guide for Young Potentials." It was clearly meant for children approaching their sixteenth birthday, offering basic advice on meditation, visualization, and mental preparation.
Neil borrowed the book, tucking it into his shirt. He wasn't technically supposed to take books from the library, but he needed to study this in private.
That evening, after dinner and evening prayers, Neil retreated to his bed early, drawing the thin curtain that provided the only privacy in the dormitory. By the dim light filtering through the window, he read the book on Awakening.
Most of it was basic—breathing exercises, simple meditation techniques, and encouragement to maintain a positive attitude. But one passage caught his attention:
"The moment of Awakening is influenced by one's mental state and preparation. Those who have practiced visualization and maintained mental discipline often experience smoother, more controlled Awakenings. The unprepared mind may struggle to channel the sudden influx of magical awareness."
Neil considered this. He had two years to prepare his mind for this Awakening. Two years to develop the visualization skills and mental discipline mentioned in the book. It wasn't much time, but it was something.
The interface flickered:
At least the system was acknowledging his progress, even if it offered no additional insights.
As he continued reading, Neil found another interesting passage:
"Different individuals have natural affinities for different types of magic. These affinities often manifest in interests and talents evident even before Awakening. A child fascinated by plants may have an affinity for natural magic; one drawn to mechanical devices might excel at artifice magic."
Neil wondered what affinities the original Neil Chambers might have had. His interest in herbalism suggested a possible connection to natural magic. But what about Neil Harrington's interests and talents? Would they influence his magical affinity in this new body?
In his previous life, Neil had been drawn to innovation, to finding new solutions to complex problems. He had built a technology empire by seeing connections others missed. Would that translate to any particular magical affinity?
The book offered no answers, only more questions. Neil closed it with a sigh, tucking it under his thin mattress for safekeeping. He would continue reading tomorrow.
As he lay in bed, waiting for sleep, Neil reflected on his first full day of this new life. He had learned about herbs in the garden, history in the classroom, and a little about magic from his reading. Small steps, but progress nonetheless.
The interface flickered one last time before he drifted off:
The percentage was increasing, but still far from complete. Neil wondered again what would happen when it reached 100%. Would he fully remember Neil Chambers' life? Would it change who he was now?
These questions followed him into dreams filled with silver-leaved plants and ancient treaties, with wizards who changed the world through the power of visualization.
The next few weeks fell into a pattern. Mornings in the herb garden with Brother Tomas, learning the properties and care of medicinal plants. Afternoons in classes, absorbing the history and culture of this new world. Evenings in the library or reading quietly in his bed, gathering whatever knowledge he could find about magic and its workings.
The interface continued to provide basic information and track his progress, but offered no shortcuts or special advantages. Neil was learning the old-fashioned way—through study, observation, and practice.
His relationship with Thomas Reed deepened into a genuine friendship. Thomas was intelligent and observant, with a dry wit that often caught Neil by surprise. He was also an excellent source of information about the orphanage and its inhabitants.
"Brother Michael used to be a scribe at the Royal Library," Thomas told him one afternoon as they walked the grounds. "He knows more than he lets on in class. If you ask him specific questions after lessons, he sometimes shares interesting stories."
Neil filed this information away. "What about Matron Helsa? What's her background?"
Thomas shrugged. "No one knows for sure. Some say she comes from a noble family that fell from grace. Others think she might have been a healer during the Border Wars. She never talks about her past."
"And Brother Tomas? The gardener?"
"He's been here forever. Grew up in this very orphanage, they say. Never left, just took over the gardens when the previous gardener died."
Neil nodded thoughtfully. These small insights into the staff helped him navigate the social dynamics of St. Clement's. He was careful to show respect to Matron Helsa, to ask Brother Michael thoughtful questions about history, and to demonstrate genuine interest in Brother Tomas's herbal knowledge.
His efforts bore fruit. Brother Tomas began teaching him more advanced aspects of herbalism—how to harvest at the right time, how to dry and store herbs properly, how to prepare simple remedies for common ailments.
"You have a gift for this," the gardener commented one day as Neil carefully measured dried silvermint for a cough remedy. "Most boys your age wouldn't have the patience."
"I find it interesting," Neil replied. "And useful."
Brother Tomas nodded approvingly. "Useful indeed. These remedies save the orphanage a small fortune in physician's fees." He hesitated, then added, "You know, if you continue to show aptitude, you might consider apprenticing with an apothecary when you're older. It's a respectable trade."
Neil considered this. An apprenticeship with an apothecary could provide valuable knowledge and skills, particularly if herbal remedies had magical applications after Awakening. "I've thought about it," he said carefully. "Though I'd need some way to pay for an apprenticeship fee."
Brother Tomas nodded sympathetically. "True enough. Not many take on orphans without a fee. Still, you have time yet."
Time was indeed on Neil's side, but he had no intention of waiting passively for opportunities. He had begun to formulate a plan.
With Brother Tomas's permission, Neil had started growing a small section of herbs specifically for drying and storing. The official purpose was to create a reserve of medicinal plants for the orphanage. The unofficial purpose—known only to Neil—was to begin building inventory for his first business venture.
He had observed that twice a week, a group of older orphans was escorted to the local market to help carry supplies back to the orphanage. Through careful questioning, Neil learned that one of these orphans, a sixteen-year-old named Marcus, occasionally did small trades in the market for his own benefit.
Neil approached Marcus one evening in the dormitory, waiting until the other boys were distracted.
"I have a proposition for you," Neil said quietly.
Marcus, a tall boy with a perpetual scowl, looked suspicious. "What kind of proposition?"
"I've been growing extra herbs in the garden. Brother Tomas knows about it—he thinks it's for the orphanage stores. But I was thinking some could be sold at the market."
"And what's that got to do with me?" Marcus asked, though his interest was clearly piqued.
"You go to the market twice a week. I can't leave the orphanage. I thought perhaps we could help each other."
Marcus narrowed his eyes. "You want me to sell your herbs? What's in it for me?"
"A share of the profits," Neil said. "Say, thirty percent?"
"Forty," Marcus countered immediately.
Neil had expected this. "Thirty-five," he offered. "And I'll throw in some headache remedy"
Marcus looked surprised, then thoughtful. "How did you know about my headaches?"
"I notice things," Neil said simply. It was true—he had observed Marcus rubbing his temples frequently during meals and lessons.
After a moment's consideration, Marcus nodded. "Alright. Thirty-five percent and the headache remedy. But if we get caught—"
"We won't," Neil assured him. "Brother Tomas has already approved my herb project. I'm just finding a use for the excess."
The next market day, Neil provided Marcus with a small bundle of dried silvermint and instructions on the price to ask. The interface had not provided market values, so Neil had to rely on snippets of conversation he'd overheard between Brother Tomas and the orphanage cook about herb prices.
When Marcus returned that evening, he slipped Neil three copper coins.
"Sold it all," he whispered. "The herbalist at the market said it was good quality. Asked if I had more."
Neil smiled, pocketing the coins. It was a modest beginning, but it was a start. "Next time, I'll have more variety. And here—" he handed Marcus a small packet of powdered herbs, "—for your headaches. Mix it with hot water and drink it when you feel one coming on."
Marcus accepted the packet with a nod that might have been gratitude. "This arrangement could work out," he said, before walking away.
Neil lay in bed that night, turning one of the copper coins over in his fingers. In his previous life, he had handled millions of dollars in business deals. Now he was excited about three copper coins earned from selling dried herbs.
But the principle was the same: identify a need, provide value, reinvest profits, and scale gradually. By the time his magical awakening came at sixteen, Neil intended to have the resources necessary to pursue the best education possible.
The interface flickered:
The integration was progressing, albeit slowly. Neil was beginning to feel more comfortable in this body, this life. The memories of Neil Chambers were becoming more accessible, less like watching someone else's life and more like remembering his own past.
Yet he maintained his sense of self—Neil Harrington, the strategic thinker, the innovator, the builder of empires. That core identity remained unchanged, even as he adapted to this new world.
With that thought, he tucked the coins into his wooden box and closed his eyes, already planning his next steps in this strange new game of life.