Vusato smiled. "Because of you and your siblings. You may be the heir, but you still don't have any experience of organising the village defense in case a monster attacks while your father is away. It's rare outside the winter, but you never know these days. So he always leaves the captain in the village to manage the defense when he's not here."

  Alden nodded, hiding his laughter. Of course he had no idea where to send swordsmen and where to send bowmen in case of an attack. He just used to draw blueprints on his computer in London, not work in a medieval army!

  "Why didn't father take a sailboat? The Lokir river connects our village to Garitus City, right? That'd have been slower but safer."

  Vusato nodded. "Certainly, but Baron Edaroc has a habit of thinking about the village before worrying about himself. Taking a boat would have meant two or three less shipments of iron ore from Sarnok until he returned here and the sailboats got free to transport the ore again, which means reduced income this month to buy enough food and other necessities for everyone. Or to buy entry into the fortress city for the winter, if those rumours turn out to be true. So he took horses as usual." He snorted. "I still argued with him that taking a boat would be safer, but he says he'll only sit idle in a boat when he is too old to ride a horse!"

  Alden shook his head in amusement. His father's habits were a clear evidence of his past experience working as a knight, but a noble braving a horse ride for days instead of using a sailboat he owned, went a long way to show how much he cared for his people. He must be really well liked by the villagers here.

  Vusato added, "Riding horses is often faster than sailboats anyway, with the winds as unreliable as they are. We need to confirm whether those rumors have any truth in them as soon as we can to plan accordingly."

  Alden nodded, recalling that these sailboats weren't anything like the modern boats or ships found on earth, which could use their own propulsion systems—reliable in any weather. These were primitive sailboats, relying on the wind favoring them—and when it didn't, on human power to use oars to move the boat. His memories told him that they could also use horse tows running parallel to the river if needed, but either way, the boats were likely going to be slower than riding a horse on land.

  Vusato studied him for a moment. “Have you eaten?”

  “No, not yet.”

  The majordomo glanced at the doorway of the kitchen, from where the sounds of dishes being stacked and food being prepared for the next meal were coming even now. “Hilda wanted to send some bread and broth to your room earlier, but I told her to let you be until you woke up yourself. But you should eat something soon. You need some strength back in you. Before you got sick, you used to be a decent sword fighter, but now you look like you can barely lift a sword!"

  "Uh..."

  It took a moment for him to remember that the original Alden had been trained in using a sword since he was young, so his muscle memory should allow him to use the sword even now, but it felt a little weird for him to think of himself as a swordsman. He had never even lifted such a blade in London. He exhaled. But he wasn't in London anymore, was he?

  He forced a laugh to hide his slip. "No, I'm not feeling that weak. But you're right. I was going to the kitchens anyway before I met you." Trying to change the topic, he looked around at the nearly empty main hall. "Where are Caelan and Lira?"

  "Your sister already had some soup and went back to bed again. I heard she didn't eat any greens today either. Your brother—” Vusato huffed “—ran off to your father's chambers. Again.”

  Alden raised a brow. “To read? This early?”

  The majordomo snorted. “He thinks your father being out of the village gives him a chance to poke around where he shouldn’t. Mainly the restricted shelf.”

  Alden raised his eyebrows. “Restricted shelf?”

  Vusato nodded. “Your father lets you read them since the day you turned eighteen, but Caelen’s still fifteen. The baron doesn’t want your brother worrying about things he may not be ready for.”

  Alden leaned his weight against the back of a chair. “Why? What’s in there?"

  It took a moment for him to remember that he should have already known this. Thinking about it for a moment, he could recall a little about the books, but not too much. He immediately corrected, "My memory is still a little fuzzy in some places, you know?"

  Vusato tapped the small ledger against his palm, perhaps not realizing his slip. “Books about the worst of the world. Descriptions of the rarer and more dangerous monsters, including those which can fly. Reports about villages which were overrun by them, leaving nobody alive. Wars. Famines. Basically, things your father thinks only the heir needs to know for now. Caelan is supposed to start training as a knight in Garitus city once he turns 16 anyway.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Alden thought about it, chewing the inside of his cheek. The original Alden’s memories bled in faintly—the closeness with Caelen, the way he’d always wanted to look out for his younger brother.

  “But he’s fifteen already,” Alden said finally. “If Father’s thinking about sending him to Garitus as a squire, then keeping him in the dark isn’t helping anyone. Let him read what he wants.”

  Vusato’s hand drifted up, rubbing his balding scalp. He didn’t answer right away, only stared at Alden as though weighing whether he’d heard correctly. Finally he nodded slowly. “If that’s what you say, then so be it. Your father left me no instructions against you giving orders. I’ll allow it.”

  “Good.” Alden pushed himself off the chair. “Once I've eaten, I want to go out today. Into the village. Maybe as far as the river. If I’m supposed to be the baron someday, I need to know what’s out there.”

  That earned him another long look from Vusato. “That’s new. Before you fell sick, you never cared to look beyond the manor's walls.”

  Alden shrugged. “I guess you can say that being sick gave me a wake-up call. Made me realize hiding away isn’t doing anyone any good. I plan to change that.”

  Vusato’s eyebrows twitched upward. “If that’s truly how you feel, then it’ll be welcome news—to me, and to your father. In fact, it's probably a good idea to go today, since we are expecting one of our sailboats to return by late morning. You can see how everything works once we reach there.” He turned toward the group of guards on the other table and raised his voice. “Roderic!”

  The guard captain came jogging a moment later, standing near them like a wall of muscle. His leather jerkin was worn smooth at the seams, and the scar that ran from temple to jaw caught in the light. His gaze moved to Alden, and he gave a short nod.

  “Lord Alden wants to take a tour of the village after eating. Bring four men including yourself,” Vusato told him, “and escort the young lord through the village. I'll come as well.”

  Roderic’s eyes narrowed just slightly, but he didn’t argue. “Aye.” His tone was clipped, but respectful enough. He turned on his heel.

  ***

  Before long, Alden was walking towards the stables, having just finished a heavy breakfast. Not getting much nutrition in the last few days, his body was showing it in the constant hunger he got now. Before leaving, he had gone to see Lira, but she was sleeping again, so he let her rest.

  On the other hand, he had found out that Caelan had holed up in the baron's chambers to read a book the moment their father had left, so Alden had just told him that from today he was allowed to read everything in the restricted shelf. That had earned him a quick hug, before his brother was running away with a grin to the shelf containing the restricted books. Alden had an inkling that Caelan had already been reading from there, but this made it official, instead of his brother needing to sneak around to smuggle those books.

  He had walked to the courtyard after that, but he had been reminded by the captain to take his sword, and he had to return to his room for that. Not having touched a sword in his whole life on earth—apart from some computer games he had played in free time with his friends when he was a teenager—it had taken him a minute to remember that in this world, being the heir of this barony, Alden had been trained in the art of sword fighting since childhood.

  His memories had told him that he was hardly the best in it, but now at the age of 19, before the time he had gotten sick for unexplained reasons, he could hold his own against most of the guards, except the guard captain and Kirol—their second best fighter. It was hard to last against those two for even half a minute for basically anyone.

  The sword looked like an ordinary longsword without any ornate decorations, but the quality of the craftsmanship told him that it was still good enough to do the task it was meant for. He had also taken a dagger he had found in the chest in his room. He knew that he was going to be accompanied by guards outside the village walls, but after already losing his life once, it was better to be safe than sorry.

  Back in the present, the courtyard smelled of hay, manure, and damp earth, as usual. Stable hands darted around with brushes and tack. Soon, the grooms led six horses out, their hooves striking dull thuds against the packed dirt.

  One of the horses, a chestnut with a blaze down its face, tossed its head and snorted as Alden approached. His palms went clammy, dreading how he was going to ride this beast. In London he’d never even been near a horse outside of mounted police riding on city streets.

  But his body knew. As soon as his hand closed on the reins, something in his muscles remembered. He set his foot in the stirrup, swung up, and found himself seated steady before he even had time to panic. The leather creaked, the animal shifted, and his legs pressed in without thought.

  Not me, he thought. Him. But it’s me now.

  Roderic mounted with a grunt, the other guards falling in behind, while Vusato pulled himself up as well, with an ease belying his advanced age. The formation closed around Alden as they began moving towards the gates in the west.

  From the saddle, the manor looked different. He could see everything—maids carrying pails from the well, servants hauling sacks of freshly ground flour to the kitchens, a groom carrying a bale of hay across his shoulders. Smoke curled from the kitchen chimney, carrying the smell of bread and herbs. The clatter of pots came faintly through open shutters. It was noisy. It was messy. It was alive.

  “Gate!” Roderic barked.

  The watchmen heaved the heavy wooden doors open. They groaned on their iron hinges, letting in his first real sight of Sarnok. Beyond lay a dirt road and the wooden houses of the village. The horses started forward again, hooves steady on the packed earth.

  Alden rode out through the manor gates for the first time, the new world opening wider with every step.