Bernard. That’s the name I’ve chosen for myself. At some point, I realized this world is not the same as the one I came from. I deeply desire to be someone else; I can take on that identity since this body belongs to another person. Should I feel dissatisfied with my past by trying to conceal it from everyone, including myself? Will this knowledge become truth, or will I understand who I want to be? Perhaps it is for the best that this name is lost to the world.
I get up and look around. Hugh is awake, and Talay is sleeping on a blanket. Hugh appears to be sharpening some knives. He glances at me for a moment, then returns to his task. I wonder if there’s any stew left, but the pot is missing, and the fire is low. I search for a snake I killed yesterday but can’t find it. Perhaps they ate it as a price for helping me. I can't communicate or voice my frustrations to them. A day without eating is manageable, but I’d prefer to avoid it if possible.
A cozy blanket envelops me, and since Talay is nearby, I can only assume she draped it over me with care. I rise, fold the blanket neatly, and place it on a rock, feeling the gentle stretch of my muscles. To my delight, the nagging back pain I had is completely gone! Yet, I still feel slight discomfort from Hugh's enthusiastic bear hug.
As I become aware of my newfound strength, I recall how muscular I am. Could I do push-ups with ease? I walk behind the log where I rested, drop into a prone position, and start pumping out push-ups. To my surprise, they feel effortless! I power through 50 before shifting gears to squats but catch sight of Hugh again and decide to save those for later.
Funny enough, a sudden urge to find a restroom hits me even though I've never experienced eating in this body. Leaving the campsite, I scout for a private spot and take care of things with some handy leaves. As I take in my surroundings, I sense a shift in the air that hints summer might be fading, though I can't help but wonder if my perception of the seasons is a bit off. Is the transformation truly that stark?
When I return to camp, I spot Talay wide awake, carefully taking apart a tent—likely Aeneas's sleeping quarters. I noticed Talay refers to him as "Dominus," which suggests he holds a position of respect among them. I utilized his help to learn the language yesterday, but I realized I must tread carefully; actions often carry more profound meanings.
As I approach Talay, I catch her gaze while she works, and I can see a flicker of fear in her eyes, almost like a deer caught in headlights. I offer her a warm smile to convey my friendly intentions but chose to give her some space. I must prove I mean no harm while piecing together the dynamics.
A thought strikes me: what if the very people who’ve been so generous with their support decide to withdraw their assistance? My location is still a mystery, and I haven’t yet shown them my value. Interestingly, I’ve observed that magic seems more widespread than my abilities, with its hues and forms varying so much. This leads me to think I may need to showcase my magical skills and willingness to contribute meaningfully to their community. What do they need from me to see my potential for being truly helpful?
I walk back to the campfire and see a small plate of food on the folded blanket. Aeneas points to me and the food, and I return a confirmation by pointing to myself and the food.
“For me?” I ask unsurely
Aeneas nods and smiles, confirming it is for me despite him not knowing the language I was speaking.
It is bread with many grain chunks and cheese that is sour enough to make me gag when I put it in my mouth. I can't be rude, so I swallow it down with tears in my eyes. Aeneas is confused by my reaction while Hugh laughs, and I realize what has happened. I don't have any cheese left, but I will remember this.
Talay returns and asks everyone a question. Although I don’t understand what she is asking, I can tell it causes Aeneas to glare at Hugh. Aeneas responds to Talay, and she hands me a water pouch. I gulp it down to get rid of the awful taste of cheese lingering in my mouth.
“Thank you, good afternoon,” I say to Talay, faint of breath.
I say “thank you” in English, but I remember “good day” in their language, or so I thought.
“Thank you, good morning,” Aeneas says, correcting me. He must have understood what I am trying to say, and I repeat the message to Talay and Aeneas.
After everything is loaded onto their carriage, Talay gets into the driver’s seat, Hugh slings a large bag onto his back from the carriage, and Aeneas walks over to join them. They are getting ready to leave.
I watch them and realize that I don’t have a survival plan. I can’t continue to wing it as I have so far, and if I keep wandering randomly, how long will it be until I find myself in another dangerous situation, like with the cobra or those screaming monsters in the cave? Even the rattlesnake incident wasn’t ideal.
Part of me wants to preserve my pride and walk away. However, I have already accepted their help, and the thought of going off on my own again makes my heart freeze. I don’t want to be a burden. I haven’t been surviving on my own; I relied on the charity of others. My pride in my intelligence and my anxiety about being worthless are both urging me to let them go.
Logically, I cannot survive alone in this world. In just one day since my arrival, I’ve nearly been killed three times. I don’t fully understand how this magic works, and while I’ve learned it is based on blood sacrifice, I wonder how much I can do and where I can safely test it.
The further I get from them, the more my chest hurts. If I don’t say anything, they will eventually leave me behind. I need to prove my usefulness, but how can I do that? Should I attempt to solve a calculus problem by drawing it in the dirt? If their numbers look different from mine, it will only appear as a jumbled mess of lines.
“Wait!” I call out to them, my voice tinged with desperation.
I lock eyes with Aeneas, realizing he has the highest status among them. I mutter, “Please…”
Taking a deep breath, I lower my head and plead, “Please, help me.”
Aeneas raises his hand and gestures for me to come closer. I interpret this as an invitation to follow him. If I’m mistaken, he will shoo me away. I move beside him, and he turns, leading me into the unknown.
Without wasting any time, Aeneas begins to update my knowledge. He points to the carriage and says, “Cart,” before climbing. Walking alongside him, I continue to absorb new words and concepts.
The bumpy road made Aeneas jump out of the cart and start walking. Talay hasn’t complained yet, and I assume Hugh has offered to swap places with her.
I can use conjunctions not attached to verbs and make small talk with the people around me, like asking, “What is that?” and responding with “That is.” The language I hear seems like Spanish, as nouns are sex-specific. Some of the words I pick up are borrowed from English. If that’s true, I might be the first person to come to this world from Earth.
We take a short break to drink water from a strange jug called an amphora. It’s a clay vase with a grainy texture. Its pointed bottom makes it impossible to stand alone, but it appears to be designed to be used alongside other amphorae.
The break ends, and we continue walking. In the distance, I can see small huts spread apart, each surrounded by tilled land arranged in different styles. Most fields are filled with single crops, like potatoes or other ground plants. Some fields have interlocking plants and even a few smaller areas with tomatoes growing on vertical wooden frames.
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There are also many animals in the area. I see cows, chickens, and donkeys, but I notice no horses except the one pulling this cart. The animals are enclosed, and the fences around them use bushes for added security.
Aeneas hops back into the cart and stands there, looking ahead. Walking through the town, people stare at me while the children hide. They appear to be primarily Asian and Latino, making Hugh the only outsider among them, being white. I wonder if I look like a ghost to them.
As I walk into the farmland, I notice blackberry and raspberry bushes. They seem trimmed to prevent them from encroaching on the farmland while young children gather the berries and place them into clay bowls. However, when they see me, they quickly run away.
"They don't, um... like me?" I stutter, trying to find the right word.
Without moving his body, Aeneas responds, "You look like a monster." I’m not sure that’s the exact word he used, but it likely conveys the same meaning.
"Am I really that ugly?" I blurt out in English, surprised by my question. I fumble for the words in their language and finally manage to say, "Am I... ugly?" Overcoming this language barrier will take longer than I expected.
I am still waiting for someone to answer my question, and we continue walking. Hugh walks away from the group to speak with some townspeople. Eventually, I spot something that makes the environment make less sense.
A red Hakka-like straight from ancient China.
I take a moment to gather my thoughts and ask, “Is that a Hakka?” Talay looks at me surprised and then responds almost proudly, “Yes, it is.”
The interior is well-maintained. Some structures are supported by braces—thick pieces of wood nailed to other wooden beams. The ground is worn and uneven, so walking barefoot would not be a good idea. I observe people dressed in what appear to be brown sacks or tunics, using small marbles to release a red mist that coats the inside of the Hakka, giving it the same color as the exterior—however, sunlight streams in from a hole in the roof.
It only takes a few steps to reach the center of the Hakka, which resembles a courtyard. An X-shaped walkway connects four entrances, and the rest of the area consists of uneven dirt and patches of grass. Walking through, I notice the pleasant aroma of freshly cooked bread and tomato bisque wafting through the air.
“Have a good day,” Talay says robotically before walking away.
Once she leaves, another woman approaches us and looks at me—specifically, my horns. She regresses and says, “Hello, my name is Channary.” Her voice is peaceful, and she seems much more confident than Talay. Both Channary and Talay share Asian facial features and wear attire that resembles a traditional kurta more than the shirt-like tunic Hugh wears or the toga Aeneas dons. Everyone seems to have something tied around their waist; Channary, Talay, and Aeneas use ropes, while Hugh has a belt or sash.
We walk to a room, and she opens the door for us. Inside is an office with a large marble desk adorned with fancy engravings, positioned in the center of a wooden floor that points toward the entrance. The chair behind the oversized desk looks equally decorated. On either side of the big desk are two more prolonged tables with wooden chairs, all covered in the same red material in the courtyard and outside the Hakka.
Aeneas walks around the large table and grabs a piece of paper. He gestures for me to come over and places it on the table. I look at it, but I can’t read anything. The text appears phonetic, as the same letters are used throughout the document. There are symbols at the beginning of each line, and one symbol is consistently used before the others, indicating that this is likely an accounting document. This suggests that the other symbols represent numbers.
He also hands me a tablet filled with wax and a stylus. Aeneas looks at me and is waiting for a response. I raise one finger and say, “One.” Then I hold up two fingers and say, “Two,” continuing until I reach ten. He catches on to what I’m trying to do and begins counting in his language, but I stop him and point to the paper, encouraging him to match his spoken numbers with the symbols. After counting to twenty-one, I can see that they use base ten arithmetic and employ numerals for counting.
I learned that the symbol is called a Libra, their essential coin. Then things got complicated. Aeneas showed me a paper with various symbols and used a tablet to compare their value to a Libra. He explained that 12 Uncia coins are equivalent to 1 Libra and that 4 Quadrans equal 1 Libra. Additionally, 2 Simis make up 1 Libra. He then introduced me to larger denominations: 4 Libra equals 1 Sestertius, 16 Libra equals 1 Denarius, and he illustrated a coin called an Aureus, which is worth 400 Libra.
“This is going to make my life much easier now," Aeneas remarks, exhaling in relief. Although I didn’t fully understand his words, I managed to piece together the meaning.
Next, we move on to the alphabet, which consists of 31 letters. It was relatively easy to learn; however, I struggle to pronounce rolled letters correctly, making Aeneas laugh every time I try. Gradually, I understand how the village calculated its income.
The first sheet he shows me is a price list to market excess crops that cannot be stored in more containers. The second sheet displayed the value of goods produced in the Hakka, which I now suspect was the source of the smell I noticed earlier. I see meats, purees, bread, cheese, wine, jams, and fermented vegetables. When these goods are brought into the room, I get a closer look, which causes my stomach to growl.
“I guess the only thing we have ***** this day is cheese and bread. And with Hugh ***** you fish food, you are ****** hungry.” Aeneas remarks. I didn’t catch on to all the words, but I think I can piece together what he said.
With a deep breath, I replied, “Yes,” though I couldn’t help feeling overwhelmed. I had hoped to contribute more meaningfully, but my efforts had only involved reading and writing.
“Channary!” Aeneas calls out, and the woman who welcomed us earlier stood at attention, bright-eyed and eager to assist.
“Yes, Dominus,” she responds cheerfully.
“What foods are being served today?” Aeneas inquires.
“Today, we have Isicia Omentata, Pullus Elixus, or Patina de Piscium,” she explained with a smile. I gather that the word I didn’t quite catch was related to what was on the menu.
I feel a surge of uncertainty and glance at Aeneas for guidance. Instead, he returns to his papers and remarks coldly, “Well? Are you going to ask her?”
“Ask her what? I don’t understand!” I reply, a bit taken aback, shrugging my shoulders in frustration.
Still, one of the dishes sounds like it contains chicken. Taking a leap of faith, I ask her to repeat her options, focusing on “Pullus Elisus.” She nods approvingly, and no one corrected my pronunciation.
With a smile, she leaves, and Aeneas hands me an abacus, opening new possibilities for our discussion.
“I no want that,” I reply, but I use incorrect grammar, which confuses him. I need to show him why I don’t need it.
I take the tablet and jokingly say, “May this method be immortalized.”
Aeneas needs clarification, so I simplify all the conversion equations into fundamental algebra problems. Since the numbers are complex, I revert to the numerical values I know. Aeneas, still puzzled, watches intently as I complete the calculations. I finish the paperwork in under a minute and then return the numbers to their original form. Aeneas takes about ten minutes to double-check my work with an abacus, but it’s all correct.
The Pullus Elixus arrives, and I am told to sit at one of the side tables while we eat. It features chicken smothered in herbs and sauces. The flavor is rich, and the chicken is tender, falling apart at the touch. The sauce is abundant, ensuring every bite is full of solid flavor.
After we eat, the rest of the paperwork doesn’t take long to finish. This level of math is simple enough for a middle schooler to complete. I’m disappointed.
After I finish the paperwork, Aeneas confirms its completion. I speak to him about magic, pointing to my neck as I emit blue fog and ask, “What is this?”
He looks perplexed and responds in a confused tone, “Aether Magic?”
It couldn’t be a coincidence that the term “Magic” was the same as in my world. I suspected this world had elements of my world, and I wanted to understand the relation.
“Yes, what is it?” I ask.
“Magic is a product of your Bezyl, and there are six types,” Aeneas explains.
“What does it do?” I inquire.
Instead of answering my question, he pulls out three marbles: red, orange, and yellow. He holds the red marble up to his face, and purple lines emerge from the sides of his head. His magic dyed the marble purple momentarily, but then it turns red again. I wonder why my magic appears as a fog while his and Hugh’s magic is much more structured.
He holds up the red marble and says, “Semino.” The magic coats a section of the table, and he manipulates it to create a pyramid. Then he takes the orange marble, hands it to me, and said, “Unda.”
“Unda,” I echo, reaching for the orange marble. I tried to mimic what Aeneas had done earlier and move my magic into it. It takes significant effort, almost like a painful blood donation from my neck.
The marble turns blue for a moment but then returns to orange. While this is interesting, I struggle to see how to apply it to anything. But why did he give me the orange marble instead of the red one?
“That one?” I ask, pointing at the red marble.
He looked at me, confused, and ask, “Are you sure you want to try this?”
“Yes,” I reply, feeling a bit anxious.
Aeneas hands me the red marble, and I say “Semino” to remember its name. I place it next to my neck and repeat the process. This time, it is much harder to feed my magic. It requires about four times the pressure of what that orange marble needed.
Then, Talay walks into the room and says, “Dominus, all the preparations are complete.”
“Good, help Bernard out,” Aeneas replies.
Talay says, “Come with me, please,” I follow her.