Reluctant Heroes

Chapter 1 - Intro

A/N: Hello, I'm back on my bullshit again with making a new story! This is purely another self-serving fic made to please my 13 year old self. We love you 13 year old me, you cringy little shit.

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My name is Marie, Marie Berger.

At least... that's my name now.

You see, I'm in quite of a pickle. I used to be just a regular girl, painfully average, never meant to amount to anything.

So it was only natural I would go out in an equally as plain way.

No trucks, no epic large scale murder. No, I died by my heart just... stopping one day.

Yet my life hadn't ended, it seemed, as I entered a dark void, floating around endlessly.

That was until I suddenly felt myself get ripped out of the oddly comforting space, being blasted by a true sensory overload. I blinked, but my vision wasn't able to focus. I heard myself cry and scream in confusion, until I made out what sounded like gibberish to me.

I soon realised this was another language than what I had been used to.

As my vision grew clearer, I realised I was in a medieval era. I cursed my luck, not looking forward to dying from a stupid plague or the likes.

But that turned out to be the least of my worries, as my mother, Martha, took me outside for the first time I could register things properly. I looked around my surroundings, trying to both familiarise myself with it and keep my bored mind busy.

Being reincarnated was a strange phenomenon. At least, the way I had been at least. I fully retained my memories and mental capacity of my former life. It wasn't much, but it was there. So being stuck in the body of a literal baby was rather frustrating.

As I looked around, I found that we lived in a small village in the middle of a forested area. It seemed to be a village made up of mostly small scale farmers, selling their produce to each other and neighbouring towns.

My new parents were dairy farmers, which made them one of the richer farmers around these parts apparently. To say I was living lavishly for the time was an understatement.

Well, apparently we had a king and everything, so there were ones living it up even more, but I digress.

Growing up, I quickly learned to push my body's limitations, learning to walk at the tender age of 1 and already speaking and reading my first proper sentences at the age of 2.

I was hailed as a genius baby, but it was far from the truth. I had always been average, I was now exemplary purely because I was a baby. They would be disappointed to see I'd grow up into a shut-in loser.

Anyways, because of my genius status, I was quickly tasked with helping out around the house and the farm. I was milking my first cow by the age of 4 for fucks sake!

Although I didn't mind, it gave me something to do since there was a severe lack of any technology or, well, any fun stuff in general.

Books were sparse, our household only having a few because of our wealthier status. I quickly read through them so that side of mental pleasure was exhausted quickly.

Bonding with the animals wasn't that bad though, even if they stank a little bit too much for it to be bearable.

I was a city girl before, ok! Let me complain a bit.

Regardless, disaster truly struck when I turned 10.

It was just another regular day on the farm. I was busy mucking out the stinkiest shit I've ever smelt from Bess, our oldest cow in the barn.