I was holding my head in one hand made a somewhat obvious realization

“I’m in a world entirely different from my own, aren’t I?”

Despite the lack of overtly fantastical elements, my overfamiliarity with the “Isekai” genre led me to this conclusion. In those stories, protagonists often receive overwhelming power or assistance in their new world. I wasn’t so fortunate. Surprisingly, what sparked this realization was not the otherworldly armor that my pursuants wore, nor the unrecognizable language that I encountered, but rather the fact that I was in what appeared to be the basement of which I did not recognize and the fact that I cannot remember how I got here after almost being caught by one of the regime’s forces.

In my old world, dungeons referred to long labyrinthian structures wherein dark hallways surrounded by cobblestone walls hid many secrets and treasures. Where mages and warriors fought monsters for the treasures that lay within.

The structure where I was located currently was thankfully, not one of these dungeons. With the assistance of a faint light in the corner I could tell that he now sat on the floor of a dry, relatively small space—no bigger than the area of the average swimming pool back on Earth.

The sandstone walls that enclosed the cellar were supported by tall wooden beams, appearing intermittently in its construction. The room had no other distinct details aside from a large wooden door appearing in the middle of the room. The door was plain in its appearance with the sole exception of a metal bulge on its side, most likely with a lock on the other side. Whoever took me here must have thought that the lock was enough. I can tell because I’m not bound by any sort of chain or rope that a prisoner would normally have.

Considering that they have a lock on the outside, I’m guessing that whoever took me here must be accustomed to this sort of thing.

Who even kidnapped me?

As I strained my memory, bits and pieces from the previous day began to return.

The thin man. He had shot darts at the men chasing me.

There also was this burly man there as well… before I felt a stinging pain in my back.

The thin man shot me, didn’t he.

Damn it.

Why would he?

Was it to erase evidence?

But wait… why am I alive then?

Why were they left alive too?

As my mind was racing with questions, I realized the full gravity of the situation. As my mind tried to piece together the story of how I got here, an incongruity appeared in my memories.

How did I get from my homeland to this strange place? Panic started as more questions surfaced.

How will I get home?

What will happen to me?

Is this where I die?

Surely, a heart attack would ensue if this anxious worrying kept on for another thirty minutes, but instead, I was interrupted by the distinct sound of the door creaking open.

As the door swung on its hinge the figures of the two men became illuminated in the torchlight. One of them, a well-built man with rough, ivory skin, looked at me with an intense glare. His face riddled with darkened scars did nothing to conceal the menace in his narrowed dark eyes.

In contrast, the other man had a narrow figure. He had a slightly lighter complexion with no terribly defining features save for his thin, light brown eyes. The same eyes which projected an inquisitive gaze onto me as he entered the room.

Seeing my abductors made my heart stop in a panic, all rational thoughts proceeded to vacate my mind and what was left was pure fear. As I instinctively backed away from them, my face frozen in fear, the men exchanged confused looks as they noticed my fear.

In an attempt to quickly calm me down they put their hands over their heads as the universal sign of peace. As I forced myself to breathe, the fear subsided. What replaced it was a wary curiosity.

Now that I had my wits about me, I could now see that they both wore plain, unimpressive robes over simple tunics - with nothing to suggest high social status. While the large man’s callused hands were empty, the more slim man held a sort of wax board in his right hand and a sort of metal stylus which was probably used to write on the board in question.

“Hamet ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱?”

The man holding the waxen board spoke to me in a curious tone.

“I don’t know why you brought me here, but I can tell you that you have got the wrong person.” I stammered, my voice shaky.

“✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ Hamet ✱✱✱✱ Yavan”? the thinner man asked in an inquiring tone

“ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ Yavan ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱” replied the other man with a sigh.

After talking for a minute they both seemed to agree on a course of action.

The slim man looked at me, and gestured to how he placed both the board and the stylus on the floor.

Then they both left, locking the door behind them. Which left me alone with the board and stylus.

I’m guessing they want me to write something on it?

If that’s what they want, that’s what I’ll give them.

Earlier, outside the door…

After taking the Hamet and placing him in our storeroom, we waited for him to wake up.

While waiting my partner Darat asked

“If he’s here to give us information and he doesn’t understand us, what’s the point?”

“Even if we can’t talk to him directly, we can use these.”

Bringing out a stylus and a wax board from a nearby chest

“How will we use that, Qaton?”

“If worst comes to worst and we can’t understand him at all, we leave it with him and see what he writes on it” I replied.

The realization dawned on Darat’s face after I explained my idea.

“By the way, I think we should hurry up and find another steward. You won’t believe the amount of work I had to do to find this after our last one went missing.” I complained.

After preparing for our questioning, we wait a few moments until we hear shuffling from the room where the Hamet was placed in.

The town of Murgi normally didn’t get many visitors compared to its capital, which made his appearance even more surprising.

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

Our smuggling operation was the only thing of note in this small hamlet, thus any unexpected visitors were very suspicious.

Unsure of whether he could be a threat to our operation, we decided to find out his origins ourselves.

It’s not like anyone would miss him if he went missing anyway.

Hearing the boy wake up, Darat tapped my shoulder to go help him deal with the boy.

As he opened the door, he found the boy looking at us as if we were about to kill him.

Oh, he’s afraid we might kill him.

At this rate he’ll die of shock, I need to calm him down.

To assuage his fear, Darat and I raised our arms as a sign of peace. This seemed to have calmed him down enough that we could try talking to him.

I started off with a simple question.

“Hamet, where do you come from?”

“✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱ ✱✱✱✱” he spoke, his voice slightly trembling.

I don’t understand him in the slightest.

Well, that’s to be expected I guess.

“Do you think the Hamet is Yavan?” I suggested.

Darat sighed and said “He’s probably not Yavan though it sounds kind of similar.”

The Yavan people of the north, known for their marble and olives, spoke a language that had words which sounded quite similar to the one the Hamet spoke. Despite this, Darat’s familiarity with the tongue gave weight to his judgment, so I believed him.

“So, I guess it’s time we use that board of yours?” Darat asked, his eyes shifting to the wooden board in my hands.

“Indeed it is.” I confirmed with a nod.

Darat titled his head, pondering aloud“What do you think he’ll do with the board?”

With a mischievous smirk on my face, I said “He’ll probably try to communicate with us, maybe even surprise us. At the very least, it will be interesting. Why do you think I went along with your idea if not that?”

Darat chuckled, shaking his head “You always were a strange one”.

I then placed the board and the stylus on the floor and gestured for the Hamet to pick it up.

As the Hamet picked it up and fiddled around with it, I felt anticipation for what he would write on it.

Entertain me, Hamet. Show me what’s in that mind of yours.

In the locked room…

The board wasn’t that large, it was around half a meter in length and twenty-five centimeters in its width. The stylus that came with it, was a sturdy iron rod which looked as large as a regular ballpen back home. As I looked at the wooden board in my hands, with wax covering most of the tablet, the first thing I thought to myself was

What should I write?

Well my priorities are:

Firstly, to make sure that they know I’m not a threat.

And secondly, to show that I can be useful to them in the future.

How do I do the first one?

Make a symbol of peace?

Maybe, but what symbol of peace would these people even recognize.

I don’t think they know the circular peace symbol nor the one with hand signs.

Oh I got it.

I proceeded to draw a man with his hands up, mimicking the pose that the men used to calm me down.

That should do the no harm part, I still think it's a bit lacking. I think I need to add another picture to really emphasize it.

Maybe this will work.

On the wax board, I used the stylus to draw a small picture of a man kneeling on one leg to show that my life was in their hands.

They should understand it, given that for some reason in most cultures it is a common enough gesture.

Now to show them what I have to offer.

From what I have noticed, this world isn’t very advanced compared to the Earth that I came from.

While most people probably know some basic arithmetic needed for day to day life, the common man probably isn’t too versed in calculating incomes and adding percentages. In order to have a worth in this world, I could help with their financial needs. Whatever they may be.

How do I show this?

I started with some dots, and made different symbols to represent 10s, 100s, and 1000s. Then, I introduced the arithmetic symbols like the plus,minus, division, multiplication, and an equals sign to show how I could do basic arithmetic, like addition, subtraction, multiplication and division.

Finally, I drew one weighing scale and a table.

The table showed that a square was equal to seven ovals, the circle was equal to four ovals, while placing a blank on the part that mentioned a triangle.

The weighing scale was perfectly balanced with a square one one side, and a circle and a triangle on the other end.

I showed how I used subtraction in order to find out that the triangle was equal to three ovals.

Simple, I know. However, this at least shows that I have an understanding of mathematics that is fit for use.

As I finished up my writing, I admired the tablet that was the result of my attempt to communicate with the people who had brought me here.

Once I was confident that the wooden slab would get my message across, I knocked on the door to get the attention of the men. After a few moments, I heard two pairs of footsteps slowly increasing in volume until I suddenly heard the distinctive sound of the door being unlocked, the air in the room moving as the door swung open.

A few moments ago, outside the door…

“I hear some banging from the Hamet’s door. He’s probably finished writing on that tablet you gave him.” Darat concluded.

“Yes, yes. I hear him. I wonder what we’ll find.” I replied.

As Darat and I walked down the steps leading to the cellar, I thought about the possibility that the Hamet would just refuse to communicate with us and give us nothing of value.

I hope it doesn’t come to that.

As Darat unlocked the door, I saw the Hamet resting on the wall with the tablet placed in front of the door.

He stared intently at me as I picked up the waxen board on the floor.

Fascinating

On the tablet, he sketched a man raising his palms as a sign of peace and a man showing fealty by kneeling with one knee and raising his hand.

I’m guessing that he means that he means no harm and he wants to serve. Or alternatively, something like “my life is in your hands”.

Clever, a succinct way of getting his point across.

However, that wasn’t what intrigued me the most. Below the pictograms he drew, there were also dots with symbols between them, there were symbols like a cross, a line, a line with two dots, a diagonal cross and two lines.

What does it mean?

Wait.

If the dots are numbers, then this is…

Oh.

That’s his angle, I see now.

I realized that the dots indicated numbers and the dots at the right-most side is the result, and the symbol in the middle determines the utility.

He’s showing off the fact that he can use math, to show that he can work for us.

The different symbols are the different utilities of arithmetic, with the sketch of a weighing scale being some sort of replacement problem.

“What’s happening over there? What does it say?” Darat said as he eyed the tablet suspiciously.

“As far as I’m aware, he is saying that he means no harm, and his life is in our hands. I think he is trying to tell us that his proficiency in mathematics can benefit us”

After a moment of contemplation, Darat finally spoke up and said “Well, we needed a steward anyway. Also, we still need to keep an eye on him, maybe if we teach him some of our language we can figure out why he’s here.”

I nodded and said “Alright, I’ll show him what he needs to know.”

As I looked at him, he cast a resolute gaze at me. I didn’t need to know his language to understand his determination.

After Darat opened the door and walked up the stairs, I gestured to the boy to follow me. He seemed to understand and follow me up to the space outside.

Outside the cellar, the Hamet scanned his surroundings as I led him into our warehouse, his eyes filled with cautious curiosity as they settled on the dozens of wooden barrels. Noticing his puzzled expression, I stepped forward and pried open one of the barrels, revealing the shimmering, golden liquid inside—the very lifeblood through which the world’s kingdoms cemented their authority.

I grab an iron ingot from a nearby shelf, and drop it in the vat. The metal hisses as it dissolves and the liquid in the barrel changes into from a radiant gold to a brilliant, gleaming silver.

As the last trace of the ingot vanished into the bubbling cask, I gave voice to the name that had made empires.

"This," I said, "is Alham... the blood of the gods."