I was lying on the couch, in front of the TV, which was displaying my maxed out Storm Wars warrior. Drowsy, I had to blink twice when a line of text began to flash before my eyes. Strangely, it seemed to float about half way between myself and the screen.

You have an invitation to join the World of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms. Do you accept?

Yes / No

Amazing. Some sort of new 3D advert?

Alert now, I sat up and I was surprised to see the text moving to keep its prominent position in the middle of my vision. That was strange. It was like I was wearing 3D glasses. And, for a second, I caught myself reaching up to my face to check whether I really was. How the hell did they manage that? It was annoying now, intrusive. Plus, I wasn’t going to start a new game, no matter how smart the technology. Not after becoming the most indestructible warrior in Storm Wars. Two years and pretty much non-stop play during COVID lockdown had equipped me to be the most sought-after tank in the game. Only yesterday, I had been the main tank for a raid of three guilds, nearly two hundred players, against Warwrath, the mightiest dragon in the game.

After attempting to get rid of the message with a finger movement, I discovered I could focus on the ‘no’ button with my eyes, getting it to glow, before a blink sent it away.

Lying back on the couch, I felt tired. Of course, late hours playing Storm Wars made me tired. But it wasn’t just that. It ran deeper. It was two years since my parents had died in a car crash and since then, I’d felt cut adrift from the world. There were friends whom I cared about and who cared for me. But since COVID restrictions, I hadn’t seen them. Then too, my college course in Occupation Therapy had been moved online and I’d lost a lot of interest in that as a result. It was all biology now and the practical side of the course, with the opportunity to help people, was on hold. No, it wasn’t lack of sleep. It was despair that made my energy levels low.

The popup came back.

You have an invitation from the World of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms. Do you accept?

Yes / No

This time, more from curiosity to find out how this technology was working than any desire to try a new game I concentrated on the ‘yes’.

A huge lurch seemed to shake the house, like an earthquake. It was unpleasant and something dark crossed my vision. A feeling of nausea swelled up in my throat, which I was just able to quash. And then I could see again.

I was in room with three other people: a silver-haired woman in fancy dress, like a medieval LARPer; a grey-bearded, slender man, dressed like a medieval noble; and a clean-shaven, stocky man in chainmail armour, scabbarded sword at his side. All three of them were staring at me with extraordinary intensity.

‘Who are you?’ asked the woman.

‘Sean de Courcy.’

Astonishingly, there were smells; this wasn’t a normal game: burning candles; incense; sweat; and that sharp tang you get when racing with electric cars. How did the game-makers achieve such realism? I looked around. It was a dim room, with a wooden floor, bare stone walls, with arrow slits in them. Like the inside of a castle tower. Across the floor was a complicated design, with unrecognisable, fanciful letters and candles distributed in an uneven way, like a constellation. And a slight haze of purple-tinged mist was everywhere.

The warrior took a step towards me, then hesitated. ‘Sire? Are you well?’

Sire? Apart from that strange term, it was a good question. I felt disorientated but no longer sick. In fact, I was hungry. Looking down, I had a shock. My body was that of a very fat man. My fingers – I held them up – were stocky. My vast stomach blocked my view of my feet. There was a weight on my head. Reaching up, I felt a band of metal. A moment later I held it in my hands. A crown of gold with diamonds and rubies.

‘Where am I?’ My voice was different too. Deeper, somewhat older than my own.

The three people looked at each other and the concern on their faces shifted to becoming signs of excitement.

The woman smiled and stepped over to offer her hand, which I shook. Perhaps I was supposed to kiss the back of it as for a moment she looked surprised. Then she spoke with a gentle voice, ‘welcome Sean, I am Carlena and you are in my tower, in the town of Carrick, in the kingdom of Greyland, in the world of the Twenty-Five Kingdoms. You have been summoned to replace a king who was leading us to disaster. Please forgive us if this is undesired on your part. We will make it worth your while.’

The bearded man fidgeted anxiously at my side. ‘Now, sire. My name is Chancellor Parrin. If you would, please look up at the roof and raise your right arm, what do you see?’

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The roof was a dull, near-black set of planks and I was about to say so when I reached up and a menu of tables filled with silver words cascaded down to hover about three feet away from me.

Greyland

Economy Military People

Currently building: granary level 2

Monthly trade income: 0

Monthly tax income: 54

Research: steel pickaxes

And a lot more that I didn’t take in.

‘What was that?’ I blurted out in surprise. ‘Those messages in the air?’

‘Oh, how marvellous,’ the elderly man – Chancellor Parrin – brought his hands together in front of his chest: half a prayer, half a clap. ‘You can access the kingdom’s menu. We had very much been afraid that you would not be able to do so. And that would have been catastrophic. But matters are so desperate, we had to take the risk that bringing you here, into the king’s body, would not cut us off from the realm controls.’

‘So this is a game? But it’s so real.’

‘A game? To you, perhaps, but this is our world.’ The woman looked intently at me through startling indigo eyes, ‘our lives are at stake.’

‘Sire,’ touching my arm, Chancellor Parrin gave me a grin that was probably supposed to be encouraging. It wasn’t. ‘If our spell located you correctly, you are the foremost warrior and strategist of your own world?’

I had been experiencing some anger at the thought that if this was true – and it certainly felt completely real – these people were effectively kidnappers. But at this I had to laugh. ‘I’m a student of Occupational Therapy not… oh… wait. In Storm Wars, maybe I am. My warrior was maxed at level one hundred.’

For once, it was their turn to look puzzled.

‘You can fight, sire?’ The man in chainmail came closer, speaking with urgency. ‘You can lead us to victory in war?’

‘Sure. No problem.’

The relief in the room was palpable. Everyone was distinctly more relaxed and their smiles were genuine. Probably mine was too. Admittedly, I knew very little about military command, but I was good at RPGs and assuming this was an RPG, they’d gotten hold of the right guy.

‘Then,’ said the chancellor, ‘let us go somewhere more comfortable and explain the dire crisis faced by our kingdom.’

***

By the time we reached a large room with a huge map spread out on a table in the centre of it, I’d learned the name of the soldier – Lord Arval – and reached several conclusions.

First, I absolutely hated this body. It was immensely fat and slow and made even walking up five steps a task that sapped my energy and made me breathless. It was also useless for fighting. Yes, probably this guy I was inhabiting was stronger than me and probably too, he had an ability to soak up blows, but he was so ponderous and lumbering that no opponent would have any trouble killing him. I wouldn’t back myself against the kid I’d seen sweeping the halls. Plus, he reeked of stale body odour; his hair was greasy (I made the mistake of touching it); and he had sores and bites on his globular skin that I felt as incessant itches.

Second, this definitely was real. No game could get you to sweat and feel the signals of discomfort that this body was giving me. The ambient sounds alone, or the subtle scents, were too much for a game. Just possibly, I had somehow been hypnotised. But when Carlena ­had said that she had cast a spell to exchange my consciousness with the previous owner of this body, well, that had resonated with everything my senses were telling me.

Thirdly, these people really needed me and feck it, I was going to embrace the challenge. Not only because at heart I was a decent guy and always responded to a call for help, but also because I was up for this. Having the task of saving this kingdom from its enemies energised me; motivated me in a way I hadn’t felt for months. I needed this just as much as they needed me.

‘This is our kingdom, Greyland,’ Lord Arval placed a finger on the lower left part of the map. ‘Three days ago, having lost a battle against a united army of two of our neighbours, we forfeited control of all this region,’ he moved his finger, ‘leaving us with just the capital and the territory around these mountains.’

I came to stand beside the soldier and studied the map for some time. It was detailed enough to give me a pretty good idea of the situation. We were easily the smallest kingdom of twenty-five in the bottom corner of a five-by-five grid. Worse, the region we had lost was farmland. The tiny patch labelled Greyland only consisted of hills, valleys and a mountain.

‘Is the world a sphere?’

Lord Arval looked shocked; Carlena snorted with what might have been derision; and Chancellor Parrin raised his eyebrows in a pretty good expression of surprise.

When Carlena saw that I was serious, she shook her head. ‘No. It’s as you see here.’

There was a small section of sea around the entire world. I gestured to it. ‘What happens if you sail off the edge?’

It was the sorceress who answered, ‘some say there are other realms beyond the mist. But no ship can survive the thundering torrents.’

‘Well, at least we have one flank secure.’

‘Indeed, sire.’ Lord Arval gave me a nod. ‘Although sea invasion is possible. There is enough sea room for an enemy fleet to avoid the current that draws you to the edge.’

I lifted my fleshy right arm and pointed up. Immediately the silver menus cascaded in front of my vision.

Greyland

Economy Military People

I didn’t open any of the three sub-menus. Instead, I swept them away with a gesture and raised my left arm. A new menu appeared.

Sean de Courcy, king of Greyland

Str 7

Dex 4

Con 8

Int 16

Wis 16

Cha 3

Please choose a character archetype:

Fighter; Wizard; Healer; Scout

Interesting. Charisma 3 though. I waved it away. ‘Can I improve my stats by exercise?’

‘Sire?’ Chancellor Parrin had wrinkles in his face that fell naturally into an expression of uncertainty.

‘I’ve just called up my character sheet. My Strength is seven. Can I get it to eight by working out with weights?’

Lord Arval looked to Carlena, who shook her head. Not so much as to answer me but to say she didn’t know.

‘King Carlos kept his powers secret.’ It was Chancellor Parrin who answered me. ‘We know he had access to menus for himself and for the realm, but he never, ever spoke about them. He was… He feared…’

‘He was a useless tyrant who bullied us all, knowing we couldn’t replace him because he was the only one with the power to make decisions for the kingdom.’ Carlena gave a bitter smile, ‘but I found a way to get rid of him and still allow planning for our realm. I found you.’

‘Can you see your own levels and stats?’ While I was interested in learning about my predecessor, I didn’t want to change the subject. My focus right now had to be on understanding whether this world was like RPGs I was familiar with. In particular, if I was stuck with those starting stats, I’d have to choose Wizard or Healer archetypes. If, however, I could get my Strength and Constitution to rise somehow, I’d opt for Fighter. I wanted to be a Fighter, but if I was stuck with this body and those stats, choosing Fighter would be a complete disaster.

‘No, but I believe the king could. I know from my spells that I'm level seven Paladin,’ said Lord Arval, 'but he never told me my stats and skills.'

Carlena nodded, ‘King Carlos was a liar, but I know that when he said I was a level nine Sorceress, he was telling the truth. I get one new spell per level and I have nine spells.’

‘And that I’m a level five Scout,’ Chancellor Parrin gave a shrug. 'I certain I'm above that, however.'

‘Interesting.’ I tried pointing at Chancellor Parrin in the hope of calling up some information about him. Then simply concentrating, looking into his eyes. Nothing changed. ‘Oh well. I need to conduct an experiment. Can you assign me a trainer to work on my Strength?’

‘Now sire?’ asked the chancellor, ‘it’s late.’

‘In the morning then.’ This body certainly felt tired. ‘For now can I get a bath, fresh sheets on my bed and a clean set of clothes?’

This request caused Lord Arval to chuckle and soon Chancellor Parrin and Carlena were doing their best not to grin.

‘What?’

‘Whoever you are, Sean de Courcy, you are certainly not King Carlos.’