Pain. As if reality unraveled itself in front of me.

  Then a blinding light envelops my vision.

  "Have I... arrived?" I mumbled as I opened my heavy eyelids, scents of nature permeating into my nose, though mixed with some weird smell.

  I looked around and found myself in a forest—no, behind these tree line seems to be the silhouette of buildings against the surprisingly bright sky of the night. The buildings look taller than anything I have ever seen before.

  I started to walk towards them. When I spotted a grey road—smooth, without seams in a normal brick road. "Looks like I've arrived after all."

  Around the road there seemed to be pavements possibly for people walking. I guess this new world isn't that advanced than us after all. I scoffed.

  Suddenly, a roar like thunder rolled from behind. I turned, quickly preparing myself—no horses, no hooves and lacking the prominent smell of magic. Instead, a massive metallic beast with blazing eyes sped toward me, making me stumble back onto the pavement, wet with stale water. Quickly stabilizing myself, my hand hovered over my blade but stopped just before pulling it out.

  "What is that?" I whispered to myself, eyes following the beast.

  People walked past, not even flinching at the creature's scream. Some glanced at me—one young man in bright orange clothing yelled at me before continuing his activity on the road.

  I've garnered too much attention. I thought, pulling on the hood of my cloak tighter, my boots clacked awkwardly against the smooth pavement, drawing stares. To them I must've looked like a madman—or worse, a beggar.

  A low rumble echoed from below—my stomach. Ah... right, I haven't eaten since the banquet at noon.

  I scanned the street for something familiar—anything. Then I saw it: lights in the shape of golden arches, strange letters glowing beneath it, people walking in and out with small bags of food.

  A tavern? No, too clean. Too fast.

  I hesitated, then walked toward it. The air smelled strange—greasy, but enticing.

  Maybe this world has its own kind of hearth after all.

  As I stepped inside, blinding lights buzzed overhead, humming low like wasps stuck in a jar. Smell of cooking hit me—greases, bread, some kind of burning oil—accompanied by the sound of people inside, with strange music that must have come from further back.

  I slowly walked forward. Watching carefully. People approached the counter, spoke quickly, pointed at the glowing sign, then left with their food.

  If they can't understand my language, then I might get by with just gesture. Worst-case scenario, I'll give them a gold coin, surely that must work.

  My turn came just as I was working up the nerve. I stepped forward, reluctant. The woman behind the counter wearing blue clothing greeted me with a string of unfamiliar words, smiling. I gulped.

  "Food," I said slowly. "Just like the young man that just ordered."

  She tilted her head, her smile faltering, then spoke another unintelligible word, though her confused tone got to me.

  I pointed at the food on the glowing sign, it was a meat wrapped with bread. "That one," I said.

  She glanced at the sign, tapped something on the counter, then showed me glowing panel with letters that I can't read.

  I stared. A pole with a snake, a circle with a tail, dots and arrows—was this the price, or some coded message? I reached into my pouch and held up a silver coin—pure and untainted, surely this—

  A voice from behind me spoke up.

  I turned, half-ready to draw my blade.

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  The speaker—a middle aged man—raised his hand in peace, he wore a deep blue short coat with strange letters, and a non threatening grin. He looked at me up and down in what seemed to be excitement in his eyes.

  He spoke to the woman, handed her a strange rectangular paper—thin and crisp, like parchment, but impossibly clean.

  The woman then handed him a bag of food, some silver and bronze coin back, I tried to look at it. Looks like a different design from mine, minted with precision unheard of back home.

  The man handed the bag of food to me.

  I stared at it, and at him.

  He said something, then slowly pointed at himself. "Nate," he said. Then pointed at me.

  I hesitated, then mirrored the gesture. "Edric,"

  He grinned. "Cool,"

  I nodded politely, even though I hadn't the faintest clue of what this man just said, I knew kindness when I saw it. I took the food and bowed slightly. Maybe this man can be the key to the knowledge hidden in this world.

  He motioned me to follow him to a nearby table, I did so.

  We sat across from each other under the cold light of this strange... hearth?

  Nate kept glancing at me in awe—first at my cloak, then my boots, then my sword, half hidden under the table. He said something again, gesturing towards my clothes.

  I shook my head. "I don't understand you," I said. "Your tongue is foreign to mine."

  He frowned thoughtfully, then pulled a strange black object from his pants' pocket. He tapped it multiple times before he held it up to my mouth and gestured for me to speak. Maybe it's a magical device? Though I don't sense or smell any of its sign.

  "I hail from the Duchy of Arkenfeld. My name is Edric, son of the Grand Duke." I said.

  The device said something to him.

  He then looked at me, puzzled, and gave it to me again.

  "I come from Arkenfeld. What is the land that we are on called?" I said.

  The result was the same, I suppose, because still, the man held a puzzled look.

  I offered a small smile, lifting my hands slightly. "Seems your magic doesn't know my tongue."

  Nate chuckled despite not being able to understand me. He set the device down and pushed the bag of food toward me.

  I took a bite of the strange food. It was greasy and soft, not unlike a meat pie from the winter markets when I escaped from the castle as a child, though the bread was far too sweet—but it filled me. I nodded as I ate, trying not to devour all of it at once.

  Nate leaned forward, still watching me like I was some kind of lost knight.

  He didn't understand me. I didn't understand him.

  But for now... the food was warm, and the company was not hostile.

  That would do.

  Sigh.

  For the first time in his life, Edric stayed in a room outside of his castle.

  Stuck in Nate's room—Nathan Billet's domain. No... worse than that—A storage room.

  A broken bi...cecle? Various unused tools of Nate's household appeared sporadically around the room. As I thought, the people in this world haven't got the proper amount of respect for him he should received at all, Edric thought, as he lied down on the thin mattress Nate gave to him in the corner of the room. Surrounded by tall stories of books. This place smells like dust incarnate.

  He sat up, brushed off the dust and along with it his drowsiness from his eyes, and reached for the book on the floor beside him.

  Basic English Grammar for Dummies. His bane of existence.

  "To be," he muttered. "I am. You are. He ar—... is?" He paused, frowning. "Why is it not the same? Such an unrefined language english is."

  From the kitchen, he heard Nate moving—clinking dishes, the low hum of music. Edric understood some of the lyrics now, but they still made little sense. Something about fire and dancing and someone's late wife.

  He pulled on the jeans Nate had given him—too loose around the waist, held up only by the old leather belt. With it, he then fastened his shirt. A dark blue one with strange circular symbol that he thought was of a powerful house, only to be told by Nate that it was from a band.

  A band is a group of bards, he learned.

  That must mean in this world, some seat of power lies in hands of bards? There was a lot of people wearing it after all.

  Another thing he learned, is that in this world, there is no magic. How believable is that?

  And yet, day by day, it proved itself true. No spells. No wards. No shimmering runes carved into stone. Just wires, boxes, lights that came from nowhere, and doors that opened without touch. At first, he was certain they were enchanted. But Nate had tried to explain—electricity, he called it. Energy that flowed through invisible lines, like blood in veins. It sounded like alchemy gone mad.

  Ducking under the clothing rack, Edrick stepped out of the room, into the cramped hallway of Nate's house when compared to his castle.

  Just as he stumbled into the kitchen.

  "Morning, Edric," Nate said, not looking up from his pan. He was cooking something again—eggs and that crisp salty meat called bacon.

  "Morning," Edric replied. He tried to sound casual, like he belonged. It still came out stiff.

  Nate glanced back, raised a brow. "Nice shirt," he said with a smirk. "Pink Floyd suits you."

  Edric looked down at the band symbol. "I still do not understand why the pink one must... flood?" he asked cautiously.

  Nate laughed, flipping the eggs. "You and half the people who wear it."

  Edric wandered to the table, picking up Nate's spare phone. It was locked, but the black screen reflected his face. He’d trimmed his hair—roughly, using Nate's kitchen scissors—and learned how to shave with a razor. The first time had been... bloody.

  Still, he was beginning to blend in. At least enough that people didn't stare outright anymore. Well—aside from the sword incident at the grocery store. But they'd agreed not to speak of that again.

  "So," Nate said, sliding a plate toward him, "you still want to come with me to campus today? I can show you the museum. Weapons, armor, medieval stuff. Might feel a little more like home."

  Edric nodded, spearing a piece of bacon. "Yes. And... I wish to visit the large hall. The one with many books?"

  "You mean the library?" Nate asked. "Yeah, we can do that."

  "Library," Edric repeated. "Lie...bry. That is the hall of knowledge?"

  "That's the one," Nate said, sipping his coffee. "Just don't try to duel the security guard again."

  "I thought he challenged me," Edric muttered.

  "You thought everyone was challenging you."

  Edric looked out the window. Metal beast called car were running down below, making sounds he hasn't gotten used to yet. People with glowing rectangles in hand walked with heads bowed like supplicants.

  A strange world, indeed. But he was starting to see its patterns. Not magic—but Rules of the world itself.

  He would learn it. Piece by piece.

  Because the war back home is waiting him—victory... is waiting.