I woke up with grass in my mouth.

Not metaphorical grass. Actual blades of grass, dry and scratchy, pressed against my tongue. I spat it out, gagging, and immediately regretted moving. My whole body ached, like I’d gone ten rounds with a professional wrestler and lost every single one.

For a moment, I just lay there, staring up at the sky. It was a deep, endless blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds that drifted lazily across my vision.

“Okay,” I muttered, my voice hoarse. “Not the bathroom.”

I sat up slowly, wincing as my muscles protested. The ground beneath me was uneven and cool, the kind of damp earth that clung to your clothes and skin. I blinked, taking in my surroundings, and my stomach did a little flip.

I was in a field.

Not the kind of manicured park field you see in the city. This was wild and sprawling, stretching out in every direction like something out of a nature documentary. Tall grass rippled in the breeze, dotted with yellow and purple wildflowers.

In the distance, a dense forest loomed, its trees impossibly tall and tangled. Beyond that, on the far horizon, I could make out…was that a city?

A city surrounded by stone walls and topped with spires.

“What the fuck…” I whispered.

At first, I thought I was dreaming. That would’ve made the most sense. But my dreams usually involved flying or forgetting to wear pants in public, not waking up in the middle of a medieval screensaver.

I pinched myself. It hurt.

“Okay,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “Not a dream. Not Kansas. Definitely not the bathroom.”

My hands patted over my body instinctively—jeans, sneakers, t-shirt. Same clothes. Same slightly-worn leather belt. Same pocket watch that had been in my hand before everything went white.

I pulled it out, holding it up to the sunlight. The engravings still shimmered faintly, the metal still cold to the touch.

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” I said to it, as if it could answer.

The watch, unhelpfully, stayed silent.

I shoved it back in my pocket and stood up, brushing dirt and grass off my jeans. My legs felt like jelly, and my head was pounding, but I was otherwise in one piece.

The city caught my attention again.

From here, it looked like something straight out of a history book. Massive stone walls surrounded it, weathered but sturdy. I could see faint trails of smoke rising from inside, likely from chimneys or cooking fires.

I squinted, trying to make out more details. There were banners hanging from the walls, though I couldn’t tell what they depicted from this distance. A few figures moved along the battlements, their shapes small and blurry, but unmistakably human.

“Medieval,” I said aloud, the word feeling strange in my mouth.

I’d always been a history buff—one of the few things I enjoyed back in school—but this was insane. If this was real, if I was actually here…

I felt a strange thrill run through me, mixed with a heavy dose of panic.

“Focus, Connor,” I said, forcing myself to take a deep breath. “You can freak out later. Right now, you need answers.”

Answers were unlikely to fall from the sky, which meant I had to get to that city.

The walk was brutal.

What looked like a quick stroll across the field turned into an hour of trudging through uneven ground, the grass grabbing at my shoes like it didn’t want me to leave. By the time I reached the edge of the forest, my calves were burning, and I was pretty sure I’d sweated through my shirt.

The forest itself was no better.

The ground was littered with roots and rocks, and every sound made me jump. Birds squawked from the treetops, and somewhere in the distance, I heard something rustling that sounded way too big to be a squirrel.

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“Please don’t be a bear,” I muttered, gripping a sturdy stick I’d picked up along the way.

Eventually, the trees thinned out, and the forest spat me onto a narrow dirt road. It wasn’t much—a trail worn down by wagon wheels and boots, lined with the occasional patch of grass.

The city was closer now. The walls loomed ahead, massive and imposing, their surface pitted with age. I could hear the faint sounds of life—voices, the clang of metal, the bray of some animal.

When I finally reached the gates, I stopped just short, taking it all in.

Two guards stood on either side of the entrance, their armor rough and dented but functional. One carried a pike, the other a sword at his hip, and both looked like they’d seen their fair share of trouble.

“Shit,” I muttered, realizing I hadn’t thought this far ahead.

I didn’t exactly look like I belonged. My jeans and sneakers were going to stick out like a neon sign in a blackout.

“Alright, play it cool,” I told myself, squaring my shoulders. “You’ve read enough history books. Just…don’t do anything stupid.”

One of the guards noticed me as I approached, his eyes narrowing. He stepped forward, blocking my path with the pike.

“Halt,” he barked. His voice was deep, commanding, and left no room for argument. “State your business.”

I froze, scrambling to come up with something that didn’t sound completely insane.

“I’m…uh…a traveler,” I said, the words sounding weak even to me. “Just looking to rest and…resupply?”

The guard’s eyes swept over me, taking in my clothes with a suspicious frown. “You’re dressed strangely.”

“Yeah,” I said quickly, my mind racing. “I, uh…lost my pack. Bandits.”

“Bandits?”

“In the woods,” I added, pointing vaguely behind me. “They jumped me. Took everything except the clothes on my back.”

The guard didn’t look convinced.

“Convenient story,” he said, tightening his grip on the pike.

“It’s the truth,” I shot back, a little too defensively.

The second guard, shorter but no less intimidating, stepped forward. “You don’t look like a farmer or a merchant. What are you?”

“I’m just passing through,” I said, trying to keep my tone even. “I don’t want any trouble.”

The two guards exchanged a glance, and I felt my stomach twist.

This was going to be harder than I thought.

The taller guard—Beard Guy, as I’d started calling him in my head—gave me a long, hard stare, the kind that made my skin crawl. His eyes flicked to my shoes, then back up to my face.

“What kind of traveler doesn’t carry supplies?” he asked, his tone flat but edged with suspicion.

“An unlucky one?” I offered weakly, trying to muster a grin. It wasn’t my best moment, but I figured humor was better than outright panic.

The shorter guard snorted, though it didn’t sound particularly friendly. “You’re not a merchant, not a farmer, and you’ve got no pack or coin. How exactly do you plan to resupply, traveler?”

I swallowed hard, my mind scrambling for an answer. “I was…hoping to find work,” I said finally. “You know, earn some money, buy what I need.”

Beard Guy raised an eyebrow. “Work, huh? Doing what?”

“Uh…” Shit. What did people do in the medieval period? Blacksmith? Carpenter? Knight? No, definitely not knight. “Manual labor,” I said quickly. “I’m good with my hands.”

The shorter guard let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Good with your hands, eh? That’s what the last thief said before we threw him in the stocks.”

“Not a thief!” I said, holding up my hands defensively. “Seriously, I just need a place to rest. You can search me if you want—I don’t even have anything worth stealing.”

The two guards exchanged another look, and I felt my heart sink.

This was it. They were going to arrest me, or worse, throw me out entirely. And then what? Sleep in the forest and hope I didn’t get eaten by a wolf?

“Hold,” Beard Guy said, his tone softening slightly. “What’s that accent of yours? You don’t sound local.”

Crap. I hadn’t even thought about that.

“Uh…far north,” I said, waving my hand vaguely in the air. “Really far north. Tiny village. You’ve probably never heard of it.”

He narrowed his eyes, but before he could press further, a loud creak echoed from the gates. A cart pulled by two oxen rumbled through, driven by a man wearing a wide-brimmed hat. Behind him, a group of men and women walked alongside, their clothes simple and rough, carrying sacks and baskets.

Farmers, by the look of them.

I took a breath, an idea forming. It wasn’t great, but it was better than standing here like an idiot.

“You’re right,” I said, my tone shifting to something more earnest. “I don’t belong here. I’m not from around these parts, and I’ve had a really shitty few days. But I’m not a threat. I just need a chance.”

Beard Guy’s frown deepened, but he didn’t say anything.

“Look,” I added, gesturing toward the farmers entering the city. “Put me with them. I’ll work. I’ll earn my keep. Just give me a chance.”

The shorter guard snorted again, but this time it almost sounded amused. “Bold, I’ll give you that.”

Beard Guy tilted his head, studying me for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he lowered his pike.

“If you cause any trouble,” he said, his voice low and firm, “I’ll see to it personally that you regret it. Understand?”

I nodded quickly, relief washing over me. “Crystal clear. No trouble. Just work.”

He stepped aside, motioning me through the gate.

“Welcome to Thallmarch,” he said.

The city smelled like smoke, mud, and unwashed bodies.

The streets were narrow, packed with people going about their business. Merchants shouted from stalls piled high with vegetables, cloth, and trinkets. Children darted between carts, their laughter cutting through the low hum of conversation and bartering. Somewhere nearby, a blacksmith hammered away, the rhythmic clang of metal ringing in the air.

It was chaos, but it was…alive.

I stood just inside the gate, trying to take it all in. This wasn’t some carefully curated tourist attraction. This was real. The grime, the noise, the sheer weight of life—it was overwhelming and fascinating all at once.

“Move along,” the shorter guard barked from behind me, giving me a shove.

“Right. Sorry,” I muttered, stumbling forward.

I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t have money, or food, or any idea where to start. But I was here, in a medieval city, and that was more than I’d had five minutes ago.

As I wandered deeper into the streets, a strange mix of emotions churned in my chest.

Fear, definitely. I was in way over my head, and every unfamiliar face felt like a potential threat.

But there was something else, too. Something lighter.

Excitement.

For the first time in years, I wasn’t bored.