The grand hall of the prince’s palace was huge and intimidating, with tall ceilings and pillars that seemed to go on forever. Tuk walked in, trying to keep his breathing steady. The prince sat on his throne, staring at Tuk with cold eyes that seemed to see right through him.
Tuk swallowed hard, feeling the weight of that stare. Why did he call me here so suddenly? His notes, filled with messy theories from many sleepless nights, crinkled in his sweaty hands. He knew that jokes were his best way to stay safe—a mix of truth and silliness always worked for him.
The prince’s voice broke the silence like a knife. “Historian Tuk,” he said calmly, but there was a hint of danger in his tone, “it has been a month. You assured me that this scroll would be decoded by now. And yet, I see no results.”
Sweat trickled down Tuk’s back. He had to be careful. He didn’t know the prince well, but he was sure this was not a man to mess with, especially when it came to the scrolls. She can’t change the past, but she could try to save herself now.
“Your Highness,” Tuk said, forcing a shaky smile, “I guess my first thoughts were too hopeful. When I started looking at the scroll, I thought it was in a simple dialect. But the more I studied it, the harder it became. This job needs someone really smart.”
The prince raised an eyebrow, not looking impressed. “So, you’re saying you’re not skilled enough to do it?”
Yes, exactly, you crazy man! she thought, but she quickly put on a shocked face and mimicked the polite gestures Leon always used. “Oh, no, Your Highness!” she said, her hands moving in an overly respectful sweep. “I can do it, but I need more time. The words in this scroll are tricky. Take this symbol ☥, for example—it looks like it means ‘person,’ but it could also mean ‘fire,’ or ‘a cross with rope.’ Deciding which one is right takes time.”
The prince’s eyes narrowed, looking like a predator losing patience. “And how much time will this take?”
Tuk paused, trying to come up with a safe answer. “Well, Your Highness, with how complex it is, I’d say… several months per word.”
“Per word?” The prince’s voice was dangerously soft, like the calm before a storm.
Tuk nodded quickly. “Yes, per word. But that way, we can be really sure the translation is right. We don’t want to rush and get it wrong, do we? You know what they say: haste makes waste, and waste is… not great.”
The prince’s stare was unreadable, and the silence was so heavy Tuk’s heart raced. He needed to change the prince’s focus. A smile crept onto his face.
“And, Your Highness,” Tuk added with a grin, “if I rushed and got it wrong, who knows what might happen? We could end up with a purple dinosaur instead of a dragon! And while everyone loves Barney, I don’t think anyone here is ready for a sing-along.”
The prince’s eyes narrowed, and the room fell silent. “Barney?” he said, looking confused. Tuk felt the tension grow and quickly explained.
“Uh, yes, Your Highness,” Tuk stammered, “Barney is… a friendly purple dinosaur who likes to sing and play. Lots of hugs, not much fire.”
Why did I even bring up Barney?! Tuk thought, blaming his niece for putting that in his head. The prince stared at him with a mix of confusion and something else. Then, Tuk saw the tiniest twitch at the corner of the prince’s mouth, like he was fighting back a smile.
“Historian Tuk,” the prince said at last, his voice cool but with a touch of humor, “you’re lucky I find your… creativity… entertaining. I’ll give you more time. But be warned: my patience has limits. If you fail, not even purple dinosaurs will save you.”
Tuk bowed deeply, hiding his sigh of relief. “Thank you, Your Highness. I promise to work hard on this scroll. Maybe I’ll even find a way to make the dragon a little less… cuddly.”
The prince waved him away, and Tuk left the hall. As he walked out, he chuckled. He had escaped the prince’s anger for now. With any luck, he’d figure out the scroll’s meaning before his next close call. Tuk felt relief, and the next she knew she was mingling with the warrior.
--
As I walked through the corridor, one of the warriors invited me, or the right word was he dragged me to their group, and the next thing I knew I was in some tavern where they decided to throw a celebration after winning a recent battle. They praised me with words about how their weapon makes a big difference to their training so I guess they invited me here to show their gratitude for helping with their weapons which was technically not my intention at all.
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I hesitated getting to close to these men knowing that being in close quarters with them could be a double-edged sword against me. Yet, I agreed, thinking it might be the perfect opportunity to avoid any suspicion about my gender and get a better read on these brawny brutes who could easily crush me with a single swing.
As I walked into the tavern, the feeling hit me hard. The place was dark but fancy. Shiny wood glowed in the dim light. Big wall hangings showed bloody fights, each thread telling a violent story. The air smelled strongly of good drinks, cooked meats, and women's perfume so strong it could make you cough. The warriors were already drunk, laughing loudly. Women in silk clothes fluttered their eyelashes at them. It was all too much.
The warriors' faces were red from winning and drinking. They filled the room with loud laughs and the harsh sound of cups hitting together. The women in their shiny silk clothes teased the men. Their eyes sparkled with fun and something darker. The noise was almost too much - a mix of music, laughter, and a feeling that something bad might happen. Well, I guess for a grown adult, the right word is fun.
I tried to stay hidden, sitting in the shadows with my wine. I nodded along to talks I could barely hear over the noise. The warriors celebrated wildly, drinking to old wins and future fights. But under their brave act, I could feel they were scared. They knew some of them might die in the next fight. This scary thought made every drink feel heavier.
Hours felt like forever. Each moment dragged on in the heavy air. My heart beat faster when I finally saw a chance to leave the crowded tavern. Carefully, I moved through the drunk warriors. It was easy to slip away without them noticing. When I stepped into the cool night air, I felt better, but still worried about how close I'd come to danger. The quiet night felt strange after all that noise. "Time to be a spy," I thought, as I disappeared into the dark streets.
Even though I was a bit tipsy, I walked through the empty alleys like I was in a spy movie. I took each step like I was on a secret mission. I imagined I was a cool spy, moving quietly through the shadows. Really, I looked more like a clumsy bird walking at night. The few shopkeepers who saw me looked at me funny, like I was talking to myself.
The night was very quiet. I could only hear the soft sounds of sellers packing up their shops. The market was closing, but it was still full of colorful tents and flickering lights. These made long, dark shapes on the stone paths. I took this chance to buy things I needed - stuff to make life in this rough world easier. One of these things was something I never thought I'd want so much—sanitary pads.
I moved between the shops, looking around carefully. Then I saw a small stand that caught my eye. A local seller was showing how to make both pads and perfume. Well, kind of similar. The pads were made from cloth and some kind of soft moss—simple, but good enough. His hands moved quickly, showing he'd done this for years. He put the pads together layer by layer. Wow, it's the first time I saw how to create sanitary-like pads, and this seller is really good with his hands! Next to him, he mixed sweet-smelling oils and herbs to make perfume.
It was interesting to watch. Using herbs for both cleaning and smelling good showed they knew about staying clean in this world, even if their ways were simpler than what I knew. "These should work," I thought, looking at the pads. "They're different, but as long as they keep me clean, they'll be fine."
Even though I was tired, I watched closely. Learning to make these myself could be helpful, a small win to make life a bit easier in this hard world.
I bought enough for a month, and a book on how to make the perfume. It felt good to be prepared for whatever came next. With my bag fuller but feeling a bit better, I walked back through the tents and alleys, ready for what would happen next. But sadly, all my money was gone.
"Even in another world, I still have no money. I'm a bimbo through and through," I said to myself, holding my empty money bag.
"If I am going to be isekai at least make me a daughter of a noble!" I thought angrily as I walked back to the tavern.
A few months had passed, and yet another chaotic day dragged on. As usual, I stumbled into the historian's office, still reeling from the swordsmith’s brutal assessment, which I had pretended to understand. The advice to 'fake it till you make it' is not effective to me. My body felt like I had climbed a hundred miles of mountain, and my brain was not functioning either. I think I used up all my thinking process for the day.
There was something different in the air in the office today, like the moments before a storm or is it just me overthinking and analyzing things? Ah, whatever, All I wanted today was a chair with no people around, a bit of peace and quiet space, and perhaps a snack to soothe the sting of the swordsmith's cutting critique which I really don't understand.
A few moments later, the door creaked open. To everyone's surprise, the prince walked in, looking scary and important. He moved around like he owned the place—which he did. His presence felt like a dark, heavy storm cloud that you knew would ruin everyone's day. Just looking at him, I could see my day was already ruined.
The prince walked to Sir Leon's fancy chair, eating grapes like he was just visiting a fun place. Every move he made looked planned, showing how confident and cold he was.
The room felt nervous and jumpy. The historians, who usually looked calm, tried hard not to look at the prince. It was like they thought his eyes might burn holes in them. His quiet secretary followed him, with two big, scary warriors who looked like they could break bones just by looking at you. They made the warm room feel cold and hard to breathe in.
I tried to sink lower in my chair, wishing I could disappear. With the prince here, the day had turned into a real nightmare.
Just great! I thought, sliding down in my now-uncomfortable seat. The only thing that could make this worse was the prince making my life harder—and knowing my luck, that was probably what he'd do next.
"What does it mean?" The prince's voice was sharp and clear, cutting through the soft talking of the historians. He looked right at Leon, who stood there looking pale and shaking as the prince watched him.
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“This scroll contains hidden more symbols unlike the rest, Your Highness. I believe we’ll need more time to properly translate it,” Leon explained pointing at the copy of the scroll in his hands, his voice steady but strained, like a bowstring on the verge of snapping.
The prince's eyes turned to angry slits. His calm look vanished quickly. "More time?" he whispered in a scary voice. "You've had time. And now you need more? With more people?" His words were sharp and angry, aimed at both Leon and me.
Leon tried to say sorry, but his voice shook. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, we—" But he couldn't finish. The prince flicked his wrist, sending something small and sharp through the air. It happened so fast I didn't know what it was until Leon gasped, touching his cheek where a thin line of blood appeared.
The prince had thrown a grape stem. At first, I thought it was silly. Then I felt scared. Leon's gasp broke the quiet as blood showed on his cheek. The room seemed to stop, with only the soft sound of blood dripping. My stomach felt sick. How could something so small, a stem at that, hurt someone?
Oh God! I want to go home...