My family traveled to the Holy See in a procession that was meant to be more efficient than elaborate. Several guards rode on horseback in front of us, armor shining bright in the sun. A decorated carriage pulled by two white horses was in the back. It was where we kept the supplies for the trip. My parents and I rode on horseback between the carriage and the guards. My father's face was morose, and my mother looked at him with concern.

“Why are you sad?” I asked. “Isn’t this supposed to be a fun trip?”

He sighed, “To get to the Holy See, we’ll have to pass through the lands of the high elves.”

“Do they hate humans?”

“They don’t, but…you’ll see. Damn tree fuckers.”

In fantasy, elves have many different depictions. They are kind nature worshippers who live lives of peace at best and genocidal maniacs at worst. However, in most portrayals, elves are an intelligent and long-lived race. They have conflicts with humans because their different lifespans give them different perspectives.

The thought came to me that my father might be racist against elves. I decided to wait to see what the elves were like before coming to any conclusions.

We entered high elf territory, coming across a village right away. The settlement was made of stone buildings and nestled in a grove of trees with golden leaves. Numerous elves were lying on the ground. They gazed at the sky with vacant stares. Father groaned while Mother placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. I focused my eyes and saw a faint smoke floating from their mouths.

A group of elf guards wielding spears and bows stood outside the entrance to the town's stone castle, which was the size of an RV and square-shaped. There was a hole in the roof with billowing smoke floating out. The guards wore armor made of layers of linen. I noticed that all the elf guards were female. Most of the elves doing outdoor work in the village were women or whatever you called female elves.

A guard with vacant eyes asked, “Hey, man, what are you doing here?”

“Counts should be addressed as Your Excellency,” Father reminded her.

“Sure, whatever, man,” the elf smoked a tube filled with some plant. “So, dude, what brings you here?”

Agonizing frustration built up on Father’s face.

“We’re going to the Holy See and wish to request safe passage through the lands of the high elves. We brought our own supplies, so we thankfully do not need to stay in one of your…settlements.”

“Alright, man, come on in. The lady's in the castle,” the guard said.

We stepped inside the elf castle. A bunch of elf women were giggling in one corner while smoking their tubes, several elf men were walking around while looking spaced out, and an elf noblewoman was sitting on a throne with red eyes.

“Oh, hey, it’s the count. How ya’ doin’, man?” she asked.

“It is an honor to see you again, Lady Krystal of the Met Marches,” he stated. “I am here to request safe passage through the lands of the High Elves.”

“Sure thing, man, we trust you. Hey, Mary Jane, give this guy one of those writ things.”

Another elf woman gave Father a writ of safe passage.

He seemed relieved, “Thank you, Lady Krystal.”

We turned to leave when Krystal noticed me.

“Hey, man,” she said. “Is this your kid?”

Father’s relief crashed like a train on crack.

“Yes. This is Gustav,” he said.

“Fuckin’ great, man,” the high elf smiled. “Hey, kid, wanna know about the elves?”

“We must keep good diplomatic relations with our neighbors, we must keep good diplomatic relations with our neighbors,” Father muttered under his breath before speaking. “I suppose a short lesson wouldn’t hurt.”

Krystal stated, “You won’t regret this, man. Now, kid, there’s like a bunch of types of elves. There's us, the dark elves, and a bunch of other types that I don't remember. The difference, kid, is that dark elves are matriarchal and we aren’t.”

Father slowly brought his hand to his face. His cheeks were red with rage.

"You are matriarchal. All elves are matriarchal," he said.

“Oh, that’s right. Wait, no,” the elf lady smoked from her tube again. “If we’re matriarchal, then why is our ruler a king?”

“Aside from the fact that it is entirely possible for a patriarchal society to have a queen in charge or a matriarchal society to have a king in charge, your leader’s a king because you keep getting stoned and forget to get King Coc of the House of Aine a wife.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s right, man.”

I then realized just why they were called “high elves.”

Krystal said, “Yeah, the difference between us and the dark elves is that they’re like, lame. They don’t know how to party, and they don’t take downers, man. They’re also, like, violent.”

“You aren’t?” I asked.

“No, we’re not. Violence is what the woman wants us to do, man!”

As someone who knew hippie lingo, I translated it to a matriarchal society and asked the obvious question.

“You’re a noble, so doesn’t that make you the woman?”

“Oh, yeah, it does,” Krystal said. “It’s kinda hard to stick it to the woman when you’re the woman.”

“Why do you want to stick it to the woman? If you’re the woman, and you want peace, and you’re getting peace, what’s wrong with the woman?” I wondered.

“You wouldn’t understand, little dude, you’re too young and naïve in the ways of the world.”

“There are two circumstances under which high elves will use violence. The first is if they or their lands are threatened,” Father sighed. “And the second is if someone harms a tree in their presence. That will send them in a bloodthirsty rage worthy of the berserkers of the Northern barbarian tribes.”

“Trees are fucking great, man. We’ll fucking cut your guts out if you hurt one,” Krystal stated.

“If you don’t hurt trees, where did you get the wood for your spears and bows? The sticks on the ground aren’t sturdy enough to make them,” I pointed out.

Krystal shrugged, “I don’t know, man. We get really stoned before we make them.”

I was starting to see why my father hated dealing with the high elves.

As we got closer to the Holy See, I got a good view of the technology level of this world. It was more like a fantasy world than the actual Middle Ages. This meant it was a mishmash of technologies from before the Medieval period, during, and after it.

For example, the plate armor that nobles wore was a mixture of late Middle Ages and Renaissance armor. Gunpowder was nowhere to be found despite being more Medieval than plate armor. Most armed men carried spears and shields or halberds as melee weapons. But some of the fully armored men had Renaissance-style greatswords that were designed to fight pike formations. I didn’t see a single pike on my journey even though pikes were around in the Middle Ages. There were also men with two-handed Viking-style axes. Halberds, poleaxes, and similar weapons should have replaced these axes for the most part.

The carriage my family had was more like something from Roman times than the Middle Ages. I also noticed that there weren't any clocks or watermills, both of which were around in the Middle Ages.

Magic explained some, but not all, of this. Medical technology was by all accounts worse than the stone age. They didn't even have herbal remedies. The reason was that all physical ailments could easily be cured by magic. This meant that the sort of diseases that literally plagued the Middle Ages were no big deal in this world. To put it in simple terms, everyone threw their medical textbooks out the window when they realized they could cure the plague by saying a few magic words.

Cities, towns, and even small villages are lit by magical orbs that take less than a second for a spellcaster to set up. Also, my parents and wet nurse often pulled up crystal balls to talk to people and play games.

“Can I have one?” I asked.

“It’s bad enough that teenagers have crystal balls. They’re on them constantly,” my father groaned. “You’re way too young to have one.”

Ah. Crystal balls are cell phones.

We saw the Holy See long before we reached it. Its walls were far higher than the walls the Byzantines put around Constantinople, the most fortified city in Medieval Europe. They were beyond anything Medieval people had been capable of building. They resembled the walls of a certain anime about giants more than anything else. Though, they were smaller than those walls. Still, the builders must have used magic to construct them. The walls were also coated with whitewash and decorated with images of various gods. I recognized Dʰéǵʰom as one of them.

A massive trail of pilgrims was walking down the road to the Holy See. They wore simple black and brown clothing. Their footsteps were slow and their hands were clutched in prayer. Many knights in shining armor wearing white surcoats with images of black birds were escorting them. These knights rode on unicorns.

“Who are those?” I asked.

“Those are the raven knights,” my father answered. “They protect pilgrims and fight for the faith.”

There were many knightly orders like that in my original world. They ranged from knights who ran hospitals to knights who invented modern banking. All of them were warriors, but they were warriors of faith who took monastic vows. I’d have to look into this world’s holy knights, especially since some of them might try to assassinate me. I did not doubt that even gods who wanted humanity gone would use humans to achieve their goals.

The inside of the Holy See was glorious. Dozens of beautiful magic lights coated the city. Towers of red and gold dotted the skylines. Brilliant silver holy symbols were everywhere. And massive statues of various gods towered over the highest buildings.

“How can I get a statue of myself that’s that big?” I thought.

“Get a lot of money and hire someone who can make it,” Dʰéǵʰom told me.

“Of course!” I mentally slapped my face. “How could I be so stupid? The answer was obvious!”

I hoped the church used some of its incredible wealth to run charity programs. Though, knowing that Dʰéǵʰom was one of their gods, I did not doubt that they did. From what I knew of this world's other gods, many of them were in favor of charity too.

My family entered the city’s largest building. It was a grand palace with a golden dome. The ceiling was painted with countless scenes of gods, worship, and holy wars. I looked around. There were about 19 other noble families there with children of my age walking inside too. All of them were clad in their finest garments.

We entered a lobby room where the various nobles gathered. It was a decorated place with numerous candles hanging from the ceiling. Golden statues of gods were embedded in various alcoves. Several priests entered from a door on the other side of the room. Their heads were hung low, and their faces were solemn. Tall hats alighted their heads, and they were dressed in gray and white robes.

“The Grand Oracle is almost ready to see you,” the priest with the tallest hat said. “The first part of the ritual is for your parents alone. Don’t worry, dear children, this won’t be long. We’re just drinking a libation that isn’t suitable for people of your age.”

They knew that alcohol was especially bad for minors? Come to think of it, that midwife used a spell to tell how healthy I was. They must have used magic to figure that out too.

When the parents were gone, I looked around. Joanna and other wet nurses were keeping watch. There were also some holy knights and priests present.

Then a realization came to me. I thanked my adult memories for letting my child mind figure this out.

“Part of why the parents are going into a ritual alone is so their children can socialize. There were a lot of nobles here, and their children’s relationships could impact the their families,” I thought.

Dʰéǵʰom replied, “I can’t blame them for leaving you guys mostly alone for this. Having your parents around can make social interactions pretty awkward.”

“I know what you mean. Talking to other kids when your parents are there can feel pretty weird.”

The children started talking to each other. They split up into various groups that wore somewhat similar clothing.

"Are those clothes different national styles?" I thought.

"Yes. Most of these kids are talking to people from their kingdoms," Dʰéǵʰom said.

"I think I'll try to make some international connections."

I approached a group of two girls and a boy who wore clothing that was very different from what people in Greenrivers wear.

“Hello,” I took a bow. “I’m Gustav von Blitzburg, son of Count Luthor VI von Blitzburg.”

“Oh, ummm…” Dʰéǵʰom’s voice came to me. “I probably should have warned you about those people. They’re from the Kingdom of Motteburh.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“The son of a count? Is that all?” one of the girls said.

She shot me a glare that could crack ice.

“If we were older, I’d challenge you to a duel for daring to speak to us,” the boy said.

I asked, “Why?”

“You’re the son of a count!” He poked my forehead. “And you dared go up and speak to us! Our fathers are dukes!”

Dʰéǵʰom explained, “The people of Motteburh are incredibly classist. To them, even the son of a viscount talking to the son of a count without being spoken to first would get the viscount’s son the death penalty. The only reason why they’re this tolerant of you is because you’re from a kingdom with different rules.”

That's the most horrible, bullshit class system I've ever heard of in my entire fucking life! Those fucking Motteburh bastards...how dare they...I'll take their king and...and...

“Must…resist…urge…to…invent… guillotine,” I thought.

I clenched my fists so hard they turned white.

“Such arrogance. Your parents must be stupid,” the other girl stated.

The boy said, “You’d better say you’re sorry.”

“I’m not saying sorry,” I glared. "And you're the stupid ones."

My mind raced to think of a childish insult.

"You're big dummy dum dums."

Some of the adults were looking at us. I saw them getting ready to intervene if things got bad.

“You’re…what does my father say?” it took the boy a moment to remember. “Inseelent!”

Another boy walked over. He had black hair, brown eyes, and a dark countenance.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I am Dimitri, the son of Boyar Vladislav, vassal of Voivode Dalv Sepet of Weltai.”

“A boyar? What’s that rank?” one of the girls asked.

Dimitri answered, “All the nobles of Weltai who aren’t knights and aren’t the Voivode or Viteji are boyars.”

The girl looked confused.

“How am I supposed to know if you’re worse than me with titles like that?”

“Worse?” he pondered. “Maybe we could talk about our fathers. My father was a peasant who became a boyar because he could do magic when it first appeared! Your father’s a peasant too, right?”

“Even if he was a peasant, he’s a duke now!” she scoffed.

Dimitri said, “And one day, a peasant might take your father’s place.”

I realized that Dimitri was a very smart kid.

“Magic emerging in the world must have really upended things,” I thought.

“A lot of noble families lost everything because they couldn’t use magic,” Dʰéǵʰom explained. “A bunch of commoners also got everything. They were elevated to the nobility because they had magical abilities.”

“Then things ended well.”

“Not really. Numerous commoners got a lot of money and power all of a sudden and didn’t know what to do with it. Many of them ended up getting corrupted, hoarding money and power. They pulled the ladder up with them so no other commoner could threaten their position. Motteburh got the worst of it. Their noble class is more cruel and classist in every way than the nobles they had before magic came to the world 250 years ago. Don’t get me wrong. A lot of places have better leaders than they did back then, but Motteburh isn’t one of them.”

Back at the conversation, the boy scoffed.

“Let’s leave these losers alone,” he stated. “Come on.”

The three of them left. Dimitri turned to me. He took a bow.

“I know that we’re from different lands, and we might be enemies one day, but let’s treat each other with courtesy even if we’re at war.”

“That's very noble. Actual noble conduct, not just the rank. I like it. I hope we can be friends, even if we become enemies,” I smiled and bowed back.

A red-haired and green-eyed girl approached us, “I truly admire honorable people, regardless of rank. I know that my father’s magic knights would treat even their enemies with respect.”

I introduced myself, “I’m Gustav von Blitzburg, son of Count Luthor VI von Blitzburg.”

Dimitri did the same.

“I am Princess Hildoara of Vandalland, honored to meet you,” she curtseyed.

“A Princess? You're actually talking to us?” my eyes widened in shock.

“Don’t be surprised. My kingdom has good relations with Greenrivers and Weltai,” Hildoara said. “As Princess, one of my duties is to make sure they stay good.”

Before I could say anything else, the doors opened. Our parents and the priests exited the room.

“The time has come,” the priest with the tallest hat said. “For you all to see the Grand Oracle.”