Cheng Yan felt as if someone was calling him.

"Your Highness, wake up…"

He turned his head away, but the sounds he had heard did not disappear, instead they became even louder. Then, he felt someone gently tug on his sleeve.

"Your Highness, my Royal Prince!"

Cheng Yan opened his eyes immediately. He did not see any of the things he had grown familiar with—the screen was gone, the desk was gone, and so too, was the wall which he had plastered with Post-its. They were replaced by a strange scene—rows of small brick houses, a round public square that was crowded with people, and a door-shaped gallows that was erected in the middle of the public square. He was seated on an elevated platform from across the square. The chair he sat on was not his usual soft swivel chair, but instead, a cold and hard iron chair. Sitting alongside him was a group of people whose gazes were fixated upon him. Among them were a few young women who were dressed as medieval ladies like what he had seen in Western movies, and they were busy giggling among themselves.

"Where on Earth is this? Wasn’t I working urgently on my blueprints?" Cheng Yan’s mind was vacant, perhaps caused by three consecutive days of working overtime that had pushed him to the limit mentally and physically. All he could remember was when he finally broke down, his heartbeat began to palpitate unsteadily, and he wanted nothing but to lie on the office table for a brief rest…

"Your Highness, please announce your verdict soon."

The speaker was the person that had quietly tugged on his sleeve. His face was old, seemingly in his fifties or sixties, and he wore a white robe. At first glance, had a little resemblance to Gandalf, from The Lord of the Rings.

"Am I dreaming?" Cheng Yan thought as he licked his dry lips. "Verdict, what verdict?"

He soon knew. The people in the public square were all looking in the direction of the gallows, while waving their fists and yelling as loud as they could. Some even threw stones at the gallows.

Cheng Yan had only ever seen such an ancient instrument of death in movies. The gallows of two pillars extending upwards about four meters from a raised base. The top ends of the two pillars were connected by a crossbeam, which was embedded with rusty metal rings for a thick yellow hemp rope to travel through. One end of the rope was tied to the frame of the gallows, and the other end was tied around the felon’s neck.

In this strange dream, he discovered that his eyesight was extraordinarily good. He would usually require glasses to read the words on a computer screen, but now, he could clearly see every detail of the gallows, which was fifty meters away, without his glasses.

The felon was hooded and her hands were tied behind her back. Her shabby gray garment was akin to a piece of rag. Her body was so emaciated that her ankles—the only part of her body which was exposed—seemed like they could be broken by pinching them. It was her faintly bulging chest which gave away that she was a female. She shivered terribly in the cold wind, yet she was observably trying hard to maintain her straight posture.

"Alright then," Cheng Yan thought to himself, "exactly what crime did this woman commit that so many people are waiting with indignation for her to be executed?"

As he pondered, memories suddenly came flooding back to him, and the answer to his question abruptly appeared in front of him. Cheng Yan’s memories appeared, almost as if they’d suddenly been turned on and he realized the cause of the situation, and the answer to his question, at almost the same time.

She was a ’witch’.

Witches had degenerated after falling to the temptation of the Devil and are now the incarnation of impurity.

"Your Highness?" ‘Gandalf’ urged cautiously.

Cheng Yan glanced at the old man. Ohhh, actually, he’s called Barov and not Gandalf. He’s the Assistant Minister of Finance, and was sent here to assist me with government affairs.

As for myself, I’m the Fourth Prince of the Kingdom of Graycastle, named Roland, and I’m in charge of this place called Border Town. It was residents who caught and arrested the witch, and immediately brought her to the police station—no, it was the court of justice. The warrant to execute the witch would typically have been issued by the local lord or bishop, which, in this case, would mean me.

His memory answered every question he had indiscriminately. It was as though this bout of memories was derived from his personal experiences, rather than knowledge he had gained from his extensive reading. This confused him. A dream can never be as detailed as this, therefore is this not a dream? Could it be that I have travelled back in time to the dark ages of medieval Europe and became Roland? Have I transformed from an ignoble draftsman to a dignified prince?

Albeit this piece of territory seems barren and backward, and I’ve never seen the name ‘Kingdom of Graycastle’ in any history book.

Well, what should I do next?

I shall leave aside the question of how something scientifically impossible like time travel happened. Right now, I need to end this circus. Before civilization, it was common to assign the blame for disasters and misfortune to these pitiful witches, but Cheng Yan could not accept that they had to be executed as well to satisfy the dark desires of the audience.

He snatched the formal written orders from Barov’s hands, tossed them on the ground, stretched his arms and said languidly, "I’m tired. The judgement shall be postponed to another day. Court’s dismissed!"

Cheng Yan did not act recklessly or without thought. Instead, this was in accordance with his memory’s detailed recollection of the way that the prince behaved, and all he did was reenacting their willful manner. The Fourth Prince, Roland, was indeed this screwed up and abominable, and did whatever he wanted. Certainly, it was impossible for a twenty-something unruly prince to be well-cultivated.

The members of the noble who sat with him seemed unsurprised, but a tall man wearing a suit of armor stood up and argued. "Your Highness, this isn’t a joke! All witches should be put to death immediately upon being identified, or else, what can we do if other witches attempt to save her? The Church will get involved if they know of this."

"Carter Lannis. This handsome man is my Chief Knight." Cheng Yan frowned and replied, "Why? Are you scared?" His voice, which was full of blatant mockery, sounded natural. "How could a man, whose arms were thicker than a normal person’s body, be worried about witches breaking into our prison? Does he really think that witches are the mouthpiece of the Devil?" "Won’t it be better to catch a few more witches?"

As Carter remained silent, Cheng Yan signaled to his personal guards and left. Carter pondered for a moment before he decided to catchup with the guards and walked beside Prince Roland. The other nobles stood up and paid their respects to the prince, but Cheng Yan could see the disdain and contempt in their eyes.

Back in the keep, which was considered to be the castle in the south of Border Town, he ordered his guards to deny entry to the anxious Assistant Minister so that he himself could finally catch a brief respite.

As a person who had usually spent 90 percent of his time sitting in front of a computer, he had outdone himself by speaking in front of such an audience. Using his newly-gained memories, Cheng Yan located his bedroom, and then sat on the bed for a long rest which allowed his heartbeat to regain normalcy. At the moment, the most important matter was to clarify his situation. "Why is the prince not residing comfortably in King’s City, but instead sent to this desolate land?"

The answer popped up spontaneously and left him a bit flabbergasted.

Roland Wimbledon was sent here to contend for the throne.

It all started when the King of Graycastle, Wimbledon III, quizzically proclaimed, "The heirship of this kingdom will not be based on age, but instead, the capability to govern." He then dispatched his grown-up sons and daughters to govern different territories, and after five years, he would decide his successor based on their level of governance.

Although the ideas of meritocracy and gender equality sounded progressive and futuristic, it was difficult to implement in reality. Who could guarantee that each of the five children faced the same initial conditions? After all, this was not a real-time strategy game. According to his new knowledge, the Second Prince was given a much better territory than Border Town. In fact, among the five of them, none had a place as bad as Border Town, and thus he had a huge disadvantage.

Furthermore, he wondered how the level of governance would be assessed. By population? Military power? Economic standing? Wimbledon III did not mentioned his criteria, nor did he put the slightest restriction on their methods of competition. In case someone secretly assassinated the other candidates, what would he do? Would the queen stand by and watch as her children kill one another? "Wait…" He carefully recalled another memory. "That’s right, another piece of bad news is that the Queen died five years ago."

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Cheng Yan sighed. This was obviously a barbaric and dark time during the feudal era. The way that people wanted to kill witches recklessly was enough to give him a few hints. Yet, even if he did not attain heirship, he would forever be a blood prince of Graycastle, and would be the Lord of a Realm for as long as he lived.

Furthermore… so what if I become the king? There isn’t Internet or other comforts of modern civilization. Like the locals, the only fun thing I’ve to do is burning witches. And living in a city where shit is excreted and dumped anywhere and everywhere, won’t I eventually die of the Black Death?

Cheng Yan suppressed his chaotic thoughts and walked up to his bedroom mirror. The man looking back at him in the mirror had light gray hair, which was the royal family’s most distinctive feature. Although his facial features were regular, his face lacked a proper shape and seemed devoid of royal disposition. His pale face gave away his lack of physical exercise. He recalled from his new memories that he did not indulge much in wine or women. He did have several sexual relationships while in King’s City, and all of them were consensual. He had never forced anyone into an affair with him.

He also discovered a probable reason for his time travel. Because of his company’s urgency to make progress on a project, his boss had arranged consecutive nights of overtime work for him that caused him to die of exhaustion. The victims of such a case were usually coders, mechanical engineers, and programmers.

"Forget it, no matter what, at least I got the equivalent of an extra life, and therefore I really shouldn’t complain too much." He began to wise up to the fact that he would probably adjust to this life in the days to come, but that for now, the most important mission was to act well as the Prince Roland and not let anyone find out. Or else, they may believe that the Devil had possessed the real Prince Roland, and immediately burnt him at the stake. "So, most importantly, live well. " Cheng Yan took a deep breath, and whispered towards the mirror, "From now on, I’m Roland."

For a period of time Roland locked himself in his room as he carefully reviewed the memories of this new world, such that dinner had to be sent directly to him by his servants.

Roland suppressed his fear of the unfamiliar environment he found himself in under his strong will to live. He was very clear that if he wanted to blend in and avoid being suspected by the people around him he needed to get more information as soon as possible.

Roland had to say that the fourth prince had, apart from fooling around with some other sons of the nobility, no additional things in his brain. Over and over again, Roland was unable to remember any valuable information such as knowledge of the aristocracy, the political situation in his own country, or the diplomatic situation with his neighbors. As for basic common sense, such as city names, or the years of significant events, they were completely different than the history of Europe he knew.

It seemed that based on his memories, the old Roland had had absolutely no chance of obtaining the throne. Perhaps the King of Graycastle was aware of this, and because of that, the prince had been thrown into this hellish place, even if he made a mess of things in this border town, it wouldn’t result in much damage to the kingdom.

The next memories Roland looked at were of his brothers and sisters, and what he found left him unsure whether he should laugh or cry.

Roland’s eldest brother, the First Prince, had an above average military power, his second brother was scheming and horridly treacherous, his third sister was afraid of death, and his younger sister was brilliant. This was the entirety of the former fourth prince’s impressions of his siblings. Roland felt a little awkward, after more than a decade of living with them the old Roland’s knowledge had been summed up in a few words. What forces they’d developed, who their competent subordinates were, what they were experts at, what their plans were and so on…he knew nothing at all.

It was only three months ago that the fourth prince had come to this frontier town, but the nobility had already stopped hiding their contempt for him. It was obvious that the fourth prince wasn’t cut out to be a leader. Fortunately, when the King had left Roland this territory, he had sent along two of his more capable subordinates to provide assistance so the townspeople wouldn’t suffer under the old Roland’s inept rule.

After Roland woke up the next morning one of his maids, Tyre, repeatedly mentioned that the Assistant Minister wanted to see him. When it seemed that he could put it off no longer Roland acted according to his past memories and reached out to cup the maid’s ass before sending her to fetch Barov, who had been waiting in the drawing room.

Seeing the flushing Tyre exit the room, Roland suddenly realized that, since he had reincarnated, shouldn’t he have a system or something like that? At least in many tales that was the standard formula, but the arrival of a system never happened.

Sure enough, what Roland had read in those novels was all fiction.

In the drawing room, Barov was already restless from waiting. The moment Roland appeared he asked, “Your Highness, why didn’t you order the execution yesterday?”

“One day earlier, one day later, what’s the difference?” Roland said as he clapped his hands, letting the attendants know to bring his breakfast in, “Sit down, Barov.”

The impressions he had from the old Roland’s memories, and also based on his own opinion, was that the Knight Commander liked to confront problems with the fourth prince directly face to face, even in the presence of others, while the Assistant Minister was more circumspect and liked to discuss issues in private. In any case, the loyalty of the two was likely to be to the King.

“A day later may lead to other witches appearing, my royal prince! This isn’t the same as before with your previous escapades, not during this time of chaos!” Barov cautioned.

“How can you even say that?” Roland asked while frowning, “I thought you were capable of distinguishing the differences between superstition and fact.”

Barov looked bewildered, “What superstitions?”

“That a witch is evil and the devil’s messenger,” Roland seemed to not mind as he patiently answered the question. “Isn’t that what the church teaches us? They won’t intervene here, I think it’s actually the opposite. Their propaganda states that witches are evil, and while we’ve chosen not to actively aid their witch hunt, all the people in this territory believe in these shameless superstitions spread by the Church.”

Barov was shocked, “Could…could a witch really be…”

“Indeed evil?” Roland asked, “Like what?”

The Assistant Minister was silent for a moment, trying to decide if the prince was deliberately making fun of him, “Your Highness, this problem can be discussed later. I know you don’t like the church, but this pursuit of conflict is counterproductive.”

Roland curled his lips. It seemed that reversing this superstition about witches wasn’t something that he could do overnight, but for now he decided to put it out of his mind..

When Roland’s breakfast of toast, fried eggs and a carafe of milk arrived he made up two plates, one of which he served to the assistant minister.

“You haven’t eaten until now, right?” asked Roland before he started eating. The maid had told him that Barov had arrived outside his chambers at dawn, and had directly requested to see him, so he shouldn’t have had time to eat. While he’d decided to imitate the former prince’s way of life, he’d also decided to begin to change the way people perceived him a bit at a time.

The Assistant Minister was a good first target for his plan. Roland thought to himself, If you can make your men feel valued, then they’ll be more motivated to work for you.

Taking the initiative had always been the most efficient way to win, hadn’t it?

Barov took the cup of milk Roland handed him but didn’t drink as he anxiously said, “Your Highness, we still have a problem. The guards reported that three days ago a suspected witch camp was found in the western forest. Because they left in a hurry and didn’t clean up all of their traces, a guard found this in the camp.”

He took out a coin from his pocket and put it in front of Roland. This wasn’t the common currency of the kingdom, at least according to the memories of the old Roland, he hadn’t seen such a coin. It wasn’t even like theirs, it wasn’t even made of metal.

Feeling it in his his hands, he was surprised to find that the coin was warm, and the assistant minister definitely wasn’t the source of this sweltering heat of at least forty degrees celsius, which reminded him of the moment when one took a bath.

“What is this?” Roland asked.

“I thought it was just some foul trinket that a witch made, but it’s actually more serious than that.” Barov had to pause to wipe his forehead, “the printed pattern is known as the Devil’s Eye of the Sacred Mountain, which is the emblem of the Witch Cooperation Association.”

Roland rubbed the coin’s uneven surface, he guessed that it was probably fired ceramic. Indeed, he saw that the center of the coin depicted a “mountain” shaped pattern of three triangles juxtaposed with one eye in the centre triangle. The pattern’s contour lines were very rough, he judged that it should’ve been polished by hand.

Roland recalled the two terms ”Devil’s Eye of the Sacred Mountain” and the “Witch Cooperation Association”, but wasn’t able to discover any details. It seemed that the fourth prince had had no interest in occultism.

Roland didn’t expect that Barov knew more, but he continued, “Your Highness, you haven’t seen real witches before, so it’s understandable if you think their abilities are exaggerated. Indeed, they can be injured, they’ll even bleed and aren’t any harder to kill than the rest of us, but that’s only for a witch who can’t resist. When they receive the devil’s power it can shorten the lifespan of a witch, but it can also give them terrible power. Ordinary people just can’t match them. Once a witch grows to adulthood, even an army will have to pay a high price to kill her. Their desires are almost impossible to suppress, ultimately causing them to degenerate into the devil’s minions.“The Church therefore declared a Holy Inquisition, If a woman is found to have even a chance to be a witch they’re to be immediately seized and executed. The King has also approved of this decree and in fact, these measures have been highly effective and the incidents where witches have wreaked havoc have already greatly declined in comparison to a hundred years ago. The Sacred Mountain, or to say the doorway to hell, is only a rumor illustrated in an ancient book from that era.”

Roland, while gnawing on his bread, sneered again and again as he heard this. Although the histories of this world and the world he knew were very different, their historical trajectories were surprisingly similar. No matter if it was the church in this world or the church he knew from his, he thought that religion itself was the devil’s minion, the real source of evil. You don’t think sentencing someone to death only because they are different isn’evil? Using God’s name to kill someone was all kinds of wrong.Unaware of Roland’s thoughts, Barov continued with his speech, “Recorded in ancient books is that witches can only find real peace at the Sacred Mountain. They wouldn’t have to suffer uncontrollable desires because their magic would have no side effects. There’s no doubt that the so-called Sacred Mountain was certainly the birthplace of evil, an entrance to hell on earth. I think that only hell won’t punish those who’ve fallen for the devil’s temptations.”

“The “League of Allied Witches,” who are they? What’s their relationship with the Sacred Mountain?” Roland asked.

Barov explained with a sour face, “In the past, everything was good because the witches would run away before the Inquisition arrived and were living in seclusion. But in recent years, the League of Allied Witches appeared and made a difference. They want to gather all of the witches and find the Sacred Mountain. For this purpose, the Witch Cooperation Association will even take the initiative of luring others into becoming a witch. In the last year, many babies disappeared in the Port of Clearwater, and the rumor was that it was their doing.”