I lay on the ground, battered and bruised. My lip was bloody, and I felt a bruise forming on my face. Every muscle screamed in protest. If I had just kept Draves here, none of this would have happened.

“Come now, My Lord, how could you have expected this to go any other way? Your frontside is as flabby as my sister’s backside.” My torturer laughed as he stood over me.

He was right, of course. But as I got to my hands and knees, I shouted in defiance. “I was lied to! Training montages suck!”

“My Lord, not to be rude, but you are once again spouting nonsense. Maybe you should call it a day.”

“It wouldn’t sound like nonsense if you had ever been introduced to 21st-century media, you uncultured swine,” I grumbled as I leaned back.

“I now understand what Emily was talking about,” Chris, Draves’ next in command after Hyrum, said with a sigh.

“Oh, that little brat is talking about me behind my back, is she?”

“Um, forget I said that, My Lord,” Chris said while his face turned bright red.

“Nope, just like I am not forgetting to tell your sister what you said next time I see her. You did say she lives in Alfer, correct?”

This caused Chris’s face to go white. “Please, Lord Amos, you wouldn’t.”

Ignoring him, I said, “Maybe I need some minstrels to play background music. How would “Eye of the Tiger” sound on a lute? Do we even have lutes?”

“You're doing it again.”

“Help a fat guy up, will you, man,” I said, ignoring my commitment to not be casual with my guards.

The morning after Draves left with his men for Melnon I went to the training yard where young men from all over the barony had been gathering to train with the spear. I had gone right up to Chris and demanded to join them. Of course, up until that point, Chris and I had never really talked, and he knew better than to talk back to a lord, so I was fit in with the rest. I did fine for the first while, but I began to lag behind. The professional guards ignored my dismal performance and only yelled like drill sergeants at the others who were there. That didn’t bother me too much. I agreed that it wouldn’t be appropriate to yell at their baron, and besides, I didn’t need to be yelled at in order to be motivated. I had the memory of running away like a coward as my men gave their lives for me because I was absolutely useless in battle.

What really bothered me was when it came to the sparing with dummy spears. I had to force Chris to spar with me, and even then, he wouldn’t strike back. That is until I told him if he didn’t start training me like the rest of the recruits, I was going to dock his pay. That gained me a personal trainer and, soon after, a very good friend. I didn’t mean to break my promise to Draves. I tried to keep it friendly but formal, but have you ever had those people that come into your life, and you instantly connect with? You can't help but become instant friends with them. That was me and Chris. It was a little like having my brother back.

I grasped Chris’s hand, and he mock grunted as he helped me up. “Oh, come on, I’m not that heavy. I’ve probably lost half my weight since you have been training me.”

“And so you must have weighed as much as your horse when we started,” Chris said with a grin.

“Just you wait until I become healthy enough to unleash my inner Kung Fu,” I said while stretching out my back.

“You have said that before.” he snorted.

“Just trying to prepare you, man.”

“I can’t wait to see this Kung Fu of yours.”

“All right, Chris, let’s do some cool-down stretches. Then I have to get back to checking on the needs of everybody with their various projects, going over reports, and then working on my own stuff.”

“Ah, the trials of being a baron.” Chris sighed dramatically.

“You want the job?”

“I think I will wait until you get things up and running first.”

“I bet you would. I think the next children's book I will write is “The Little Red Kayver.” Then I will force you to take reading lessons from Jacklyn.” I was so glad Jackie had taken over the lessons. I personally instructed her and Emily, and then Jackie became the official school teacher. She had the patience of a saint as far as I was concerned.

“Oh yes, Lord Amos. Lessons from a cute girl sound like just the punishment I need,” Chris said with a grin.

“You're going to have to fight Drake over her.”

Chris scoffed, “Ha, I have conquered many a fair maiden's heart. One look at me, and she will forget all about Drake. Then I will sweep her off her feet, and we will ride off into the sunset. That is, of course, if My Lord will let me borrow a horse.” He laughed.

“Sure, I’ll have Drake saddle you one.”

“Hmm, maybe we will forget the horse and get straight to our first kiss.”

“Talk about delusions of grandeur. One looks at your ugly mug, and she will ask to borrow a horse and ride off into the sunset.”

“Ouch,” Chris said with a mock grimace.

We both started to laugh and continued to poke fun at each other until we reached the front of the manner. “Well, I am off to do lordly stuff. You have fun training the rest of the grunts, I mean recruits.”

“None of them grunt as much as you.”

I laughed, but inwardly, I sighed. I got the fact that the old Amos hated training to be a knight. Especially with a father who was so critical and was constantly comparing him to his brother. But could he not have done something other than sit around? Even if he had done the bare minimum, I wouldn’t be in so much pain. I knew I was being unjustly critical of the kid who was despised by his father. The fact that he was ignored by his mother, who thought more of her needlework and the latest gossip brought in by the runners, didn’t help either. It was just hard when I had prided myself on exercising my whole life, even after the heart transplant.

These were my thoughts as I made my way to the paper room. I decided I needed to weigh myself. The problem is I found that each occupation here used its own measurement system. The smiths coordinated with one another, but the weights and distances they used were different from those of the woodworkers, tanners, or farmers. And except for grain, even that didn’t extend beyond my barony if I understood them correctly. It was all about what was convenient.

I grew up with the standard English measurements. Well, I guess only America uses them now. At least, I think so. Guess I should have checked that before I left for this world. Fortunately, I knew a little about the metric system since some of my artwork measurements were done that way. How would I be able to recreate the metric system without knowing the distance between the equator and the pole, though? How the heck did they do it in the Age of Enlightenment? Did it even matter as long as it was base ten? When I was about twelve, I found out that my pinkie nail was about a centimeter in length, and I would use that for scale drawings. Looking at my hands I realized that wouldn’t work now. Even if I wasn’t fat, I had an American football player build.

Maybe I could use Emily’s pinky. The “Emily Meter.” No, that’s the meter I use for how mad she gets when I tease her. The “Emeter.” Never mind, we will leave it at the meter. Then, we will have to do an Emily Pinky Nail Cubed or epn3 in order to get the volume of water that makes a gram. Thank you, 7th-grade science teacher, who made us learn that supposedly useless information. If they had just explained in school that someday one of us might become a noble in some backwater barony in another world, I am sure that would have put an end to the question, “When am I ever going to use this?” When I write my autobiography I will put that in there for future generations.

By the time I was done with my musings, I had reached the paper room. When I opened the door, I found things in full production. Emily and one of her assistants, a boy of about twelve, were grinding wood. One girl was layering sheets of paper, and another was sewing them together down the center.

“Hey, everyone, how goes the work?”

Everyone turned and bowed as I entered. “Excellent, My Lord, we have completed two books this morning. We only need the wood for the binding. We have reached 1000 sheets of standard paper and about 100 sheets of the smaller message paper,” Emily said in a professional tone.

“Great work, team. I can’t wait to see the profit we can make from selling all this in Decmoore or the other towns.” This brought smiles to all the kids’ faces. "Emily, I require your assistance for a moment.”

“Yes, My Lord,” she said with a nod.

We left the room and went to my room. I left the door open for propriety's sake.

“So why did we need to come down here?” she said while looking around.

“It’s so I didn’t have to talk to you so formally with everyone around.”

“But… You left the door open?” She said in a confused voice.

“That’s just so no one can accuse me of doing anything improper.”

“So…” She said slowly, “You wanted to talk to me in private so you could speak casually, but you left the door open so everyone could hear or see us so that you didn’t get accused of doing anything with me that would be deemed inappropriate?”

“Exactly,” I said with a nod and a smile.

She closed he eyes and sighed. “Amos, nobody that knows you would think you were doing something inappropriate with me. At least not without my consent.” Her cheeks turned a little little red.

“Well, yeah, everyone here has seen me talk to you like my little sister. But it’s the principle of the thing.”

“Yep, little sister Emily, that’s me.” She said with a sigh.

“Don’t worry,” I said while ruffling her hair. “You’ll grow up someday.”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying,” she said, stepping back.

I smirked. “Yep, now how would you like to be the basis for a revolutionary universal measurement system?” I said dramatically.

“Amos, why don’t you ever speak like a normal person?”

“It’s part of my mystique,” I said while doing jazz hands.

“You're so weird!”

“And you’re so flat!” I shot back.

Emily immediately looked down at her chest, and her face turned beat red. “What did you say?” She shouted.

My eyes went wide when I realized what I had said. That was my standard retort for getting under my sister's skin when we were growing up.

“That… Um, it wasn’t meant for you… You know, like that. I- well, what I meant was-”

“Sure it wasn’t for me,” She said, cutting me off and adding sarcastically, “You’ve just been going around here telling all the other women that they have flat chests!”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Shhh,” I said while waving my hands in front of me. “Someone will hear you. I was, uh… talking about your voice. Yeah, uh… it’s a little flat when you sing?”

“You’ve never heard me sing,” She growled. “And do you think I’m going to be appreciative of you telling me I have an awful singing voice!?”

The Emily Meter was rising, and I was digging the hole deeper. At least we were off the chest area.

“Look, I am sorry. It just slipped out I-”

“I’m telling Grandma.”

I could feel the color draining from my face. “No, don’t tell Marshandra. She’ll tell Captian Draves, and then he is going to-”

“Fine, I’ll wait till the captain is back and tell him directly,” she said with a glare.

I had to defuse this quickly. “Em, I didn’t mean it. It’s just my sister and I. We used to-”

“Stop comparing me to your sister! I’m not your stupid sister! And you can find someone else to do your stupid thing with- you big jerk!” Before I could say anything else, Emily darted past me and out the door.

“Well crap,” I said to nobody in particular as I sat down on my bed. As Jimmy used to say, “That was a big fat one on the d20, my friend.” He was such a nerd.

Even though I was sore and feeling stupid, I had things to do. I was just about to get up when Patricia looked into the room. Stepping fully into the doorway, she gave me the deep bow I was used to ignoring them by now. A guard stepped into the room after her. I am grateful for the freedom to move out of my room, but I knew I should not approach you without an escort.

I told her she was on probation and could leave her room, but she was not to be near me without anyone else present, and she was not allowed in the dining or kitchen area. She was searched regularly for sharp objects. I was hoping that treating her kindly would help her rehabilitate, and maybe we could get more information out of her than if we tried torture. I shuddered at that thought.

Seeing the look on my face, she said, “Um… Excuse me, My Lord, I will come back later.”

I sighed, “No, come it.” I said, switching to Baron mode. “Tell me about your visit with your son.”

She and her guard escort came in fully. “He… he is getting worse, My Lord. If maybe you could let him out or send us away.” She said hesitantly.

“No, I am sorry, Patricia. He has been given every opportunity to correct his behavior. You have spoken with him. I have spoken with him. I cannot let him out because of his abusive nature. You may love him, but I cannot let him be near people. He believes everything wrong in his life is my fault, even though I have tried to rectify the situation multiple times. I believe it may be some form of psychosis.”

“Psychosis?”

“An issue of the mind where the person is disconnected from reality. From what you and the guards have reported, he is obsessed with his hatred towards me. Have you tried to convince him that I am not the same person I was when my father was in charge?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“And, what are the results?”

“He does not take it well,” she said hesitantly.

“You mean he becomes violently mad,” I said pointedly, “I’ve heard the reports from the guards. Emily ran away in tears after talking to him.” The guard, whose name I couldn’t remember, nodded.

“What will you do with him,” Patricia said fearfully.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. According to the law, your family could all be hung. In fact, most barons would do it. I believe people should be allowed to correct their mistakes, which is why you are all alive. You, I think, can eventually be freed and have a normal life. Your son, no, I don’t think that is possible.”

Her shoulders slumped, “Then what, My Lord?”

“I am not sure yet. Please understand I do not wish to cause you grief, Patricia, but there are no good options. I will do what I can.”

“Thank you, My Lord, and thank you for what you have done for Carrie. And thank you for letting me visit her. I admit I do not understand your kindness towards me after what I have done.”

“We have already spoken on this. We are all blinded by our desires sometimes. You allowed the desire for a better life for your children to blind you. You stood by while your husband robbed the barony. What you did didn’t just impact my family but also the people of the barony. If he wasn’t already dead, then…” I left it hanging.

“Thank you for your mercy, My Lord. I will strive to show I am worthy of it. May I be dismissed?”

“As you wish.”

After she left, I decided to get down to the village and see how the projects were coming along. When I entered Jorb’s shop, he was pouring molten bronze into molds. As I waited for him to finish, I noticed one stack of wood poles and another stack of bronze spearheads that Mathew was fitting to the poles. I walked over to Mathew and said, “How is the studying going? Is Jacklyn doing a good job teaching you?”

He looked up at me in surprise but then quickly smiled. “It is going well, My Lord. I can count up to one hundred. I have helped make twenty-four spears so far.”

“Wow,” I said encouragingly, “That is amazing. You must be a great student.”

“Thank you, My Lord,” He beamed proudly. “I really like those books. They are very funny. I read them to the other kids.”

“Good for you.”

“Um, I don’t understand the comic strips that you make. Dad likes them, though.”

“That’s OK. I made them for adults.” I had made a comic strip about an old man and his dog. I wanted to make it about an absent-minded knight and his page, but I figured if it ever spread outside the barony, someone might take offense. I have to admit I stole a lot of material from my favorite comics growing up. It wasn’t too hard to modify them for the barony’s daily life. It also encouraged people to attend reading lessons with Jackie.

“Mathew, the Baron is a very busy man. I am sure he has better things to do than write stories for you.”

“Sorry, my lord,” Mathew said, looking down.

I chuckled, “It’s ok, Mathew. I love to read, too. Maybe when you learn how to write, you can write a story for me.”

“Me?”

“Sure, I would love to read something you came up with.”

“It probably won't be very good.”

“My first story wasn’t all that good. I had to practice.”

“I’ll do my best, my lord.” He said proudly.

“Good, now I need to talk to your dad. Keep up the good work.”

Turning to Jorb, I saw him smiling proudly at his son. “Well, how are things going?”

“The coke is great for heating metal, but bronze is still easier to work with than iron, which you want us to use, and the results are better.”

“I know. We need a different type of furnace to get the results we need for it to replace bronze. And we are going to need more workers to build and maintain it as well as more miners.”

“I still don’t understand. Why bother?”

“Because I want all of my people to be wealthier than some minor nobles. I want the standard of living to improve. I want merchants to come with their luxury goods so your wives can be happy.”

“Our wives are happy. If we give them more, they will demand more,” Jorb grumbled.

“Since you’re such a good friend, I won’t tell Janice you said that.”

“Uh… Yes, My Lord, thank you.” Jorb said. Then he turned to Mathew. “Forget everything you just heard.”

“Ok, can I go read?”

“Fine, I will let you go. Just keep your mouth shut.”

“Thanks, Dad. And uh… Lord Amos,” he said hesitantly, “Thanks for being um… you?”

“Mmmm… you’re welcome?” I said as Mathew grabbed his crutch and started to hobble out the back.

I looked at Jorb questioningly.

“He means he is glad you aren’t like you used to be.”

“Oh, well, OK,” I said, lost for words. Seriously, how do you respond to that?

Jorb and I chatted a bit longer, and then he got back to work. I went around town and visited a few places to see how everyone was doing. Then, I went back up the hill to change back into my training outfit. I was not really looking forward to another beatdown, but it was an amazing workout.

Heading back to the manor reminded me of my conversation with Emily. Dang, I know it was stupid of me to say that, but wasn’t she overreacting a bit? Maybe she is going through that time of the month? If that’s true, I need to write it down so I know kind of when to avoid her. It was on my sister's calendar in her bathroom at home, so I would often check that to make sure I knew when it was safe to talk to her. Maybe it’s just part of the angsty teenager phase. Either way, I was the one who was in the wrong. I looked to the side of the road and saw some wildflowers. Maybe pick some for her? Crap, why was this so hard.

Emily

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I gowled for the thousandth time. Why was I so stupid? Why do I let the things Amos says bother me so much?

A light came around the corner towards me. “Emily, are you back here?”

Of course, Grandma would find me. Not like there were many places to be alone in this stupid manor. As the light filled the back of the storage room, I wiped at the angry tears that had once again formed in the corners of my eyes.

“You, OK, hun? She said as she approached with the small flame of the oil lamp. Fortunately, the light was probably not enough to see my puffy eyes.

“I’m fine,” I grumbled. Grandma said nothing. She just stood there and waited.

“I got in a fight with Amos,” I said with a little more petulance than I meant to. Again, there was no response, and I couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“Grandma, I called him a jerk. I called the Baron a jerk!” I said, trying to get some sort of response out of her. “I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at his stupid insult, but I hate the fact that he treats me like a little kid. He keeps acting like I’m a little sister he can tease. I am fourteen years old, Grandma! I am old enough to be engaged. I’m not a child.”

“He insulted you? That doesn’t sound like him,” she said in a slightly surprised tone.

“Well, I think he meant it as a joke, but it hurt.”

“What did he say?”

I could feel my face turning red as I mumbled, “Something he used to tease his sister about, I think. He said it just kind of slipped out.”

“Hmm… It does sound like he is using you to replace what he has lost. I will speak with him and remind him to speak with you more formally.”

“I don’t want him to speak more formally to me. I want him to talk to me like I’m a young woman.”

“I don’t know exactly what is going through his head-”

“Probably nothing," I muttered under my breath.

“But if he is going to treat you like a young woman, then it is best that he speak to you formally.”

“Why?”

“Because you are a young woman, and unless he was courting you, which as a baron he cannot, then there must be some formality to it.”

“He doesn’t treat Carrie that way.” I countered.

“When he is speaking with Carrie, he always has someone there with him, and there is no indication he is doing anything other than trying to help her cope with her situation. In order to do that, he is being friendly.”

“So I am being stupid.”

“No, you’re a young woman who is in a very strange situation. You are a serf who is friends with a baron.”

“He is probably mad at me now,” I sulked.

“Amos? Mad at you?” She said with a chuckle, “That might be harder to believe than the fact that a baron ‘s best friend is a serf.”

“Best friend, he has Chris now,” I huffed.

“Chris doesn’t replace you, Dear. If Chris had, then you two wouldn’t have gotten into a fight.”

Why did she always have to make sense?

“So what do I do?”

“It’ll work out. Just take some time to think about it. Think about what you really want.” Grandma said as she turned to leave.

I don’t know how long I sat there before the light came back. I was about to get up when I heard a voice, “Hey Em, you back here?”

“Amos?”

“Oh good, it was getting really awkward walking around the manor with these flowers. Everyone was staring at me?” He said as he came around the corner.

“Flowers?”

“Well, yeah, I wanted to apologize for what I said and for making you mad. So I… uh… got you flowers.”

“Amos, you can’t get me flowers!” I said, getting flustered. It was starting to make sense what Grandma had said.

“I’m sorry, I thought girls liked flowers. Or is that only little kids?”

I couldn’t help but shake my head, “Why is he such an idiot?” I muttered to myself. “I like flowers, Amos, But you can’t give me flowers. You are the baron.”

“Regent.” He corrected me. “Why can’t barons give their friends flowers?”

“Because I am a young woman,” I said slowly as if talking to a simpleton. But all I got in response was confusion.

“Amos, I know you think I am a little kid.”

“I-”

“But, I am at the age where I should be getting engaged.”

“Really? But… Oh… Oooh,” He said, realization dawning on him. “Yeah, I should have thought of that. I was just so mad at myself for upsetting you. I really didn’t think… Uh… and now everyone saw me walking around with these.” He said with a blush.

I couldn’t help but smile. “Why don’t we leave them behind this barrel,” I said with a laugh.

He threw them into the corner and said, “So, we're still friends.”

“I guess so, even if you are a little weird.”

In the dim light, I saw his eyes narrow, “By the way, what exactly did you say to Chris the other day?”

“What?” I said in confusion.

“He said Emily was right after I told him he was an uncultured swine?”

“Uncultured… Ohh,” I closed my eyes. I’m going to kill Chris.

“Well?”

“Look, that was an accident.”

“An accident?” he said in a tone that was as sharp as a knife.

“Well, it just sort of slipped out,” I said, turning red.

“Hm, last time I used that excuse, someone got really mad at me.”

“It was when you guys came over to the well after your training yesterday. You were saying something… interesting to Chris, and after you left, he asked if you always said weird things like that. I kind of said, sometimes weirder. Uh… Sorry.”

“Ha, besmirching the good name of your proxy baron. You owe me a favor.”

“What, no, now we're even.”

“No, I gave you flowers,” He said with a grin.

“You threw them in the corner!”

“Not my fault you rejected my heart-felt gift.”

“Fine,” I grumbled, “What is this favor?”

His grin grew even wider, “I need to borrow your fingernails.”

“What?!”