Upon waking up, I found myself chained to a wall in a dark basement. My weapons and bag were gone, but I still had the rest of my gear on. Not sure why they’d let me keep my vest, but I’ll take what I can get. Looking around, the room was entirely empty, aside from a couple more sets of chains. On the wall opposite me was a simple wooden door with a cutout for a window. A warm, flickering light was leaking into the room through the hole.

Inspecting my restraints, they were definitely sturdy. The links of the chain were a good half inch thick, so there was no amount of force I would be able to exert in order to strain them to the point of breaking. The brackets mounting them to the wall have large bolts anchoring them to the stone of the walls, so no luck there, either. As for the shackles, they were built of the same quality as the rest of the restraints.

There was no way I would be able to break out of here with the sturdy construction. That being said, I was allowed a surprising amount of mobility for someone being held captive. I used what room I had to do a little pacing while I tried to come up with a plan. There was a small hole in the top of the wall, filled with some iron bars to further prevent escape attempts. Well, I may not be able to break out, but I can still fight if need be. These chains will only keep me in the room, I thought.

Suddenly, I heard approaching footsteps, sounding like they were coming from a staircase out to the right of the door. As the footsteps grew louder, the intensity of the light outside my cell grew with them. Eventually, an armored face appeared in the makeshift window. It was an older man, probably somewhere in his forties. Black hair, a long beard, and sporting a gnarly scar on the left side of his face, going from next to the bottom of his nose, through and above his eyebrow. It looked like he took a slash from a knife during a fight. His helmet was simple in design, resembling an American army helmet during WWII, but with sideburns, made of what looked to be plain iron.

After a moment of silently staring at each other, the man opened the door to my cell. I retreated toward the back wall slightly and he stepped inside, accompanied by a similarly equipped younger man, looking to be in his late twenties. They both were wearing what appeared to be leather armor, with added iron plates around areas likely to take a beating in a fight. Both men had what I could identify as swords, now that I had a close up view. The younger man was also carrying a torch, of all things, and he mounted it in a bracket on the wall by the door.

Once settled, the men turned their attention to me and the older man spoke. “Hello, my name is Edran Morza, I am the Captain of the guard here. Would you care to begin by explaining why one of our hunters found you stalking our village,” Edran, apparently, asked. Flawless English, now isn’t that odd, I thought.

“The guard? What, like, the police,” I asked, relieved that I was evidently not being held for ransom.

“I’m not sure what a… police… is, but yes, the guard. I am responsible for the security of this village. So I ask again, what were you doing stalking us from the trees,” Edran responded.

“Well, to be honest, I have been lost in the woods around here for the past couple of days. You’re the only people I’ve seen the entire time, and I wanted to make sure I wasn’t walking up on a smuggling outpost,” I said. At that, the two guards’ demeanors remained cautious, but relaxed significantly.

Edran looked to the younger guard and asked, “Is he telling the truth?” Confused, I turned my head to look at the younger guard as well. Surprisingly, his eyes were shining with a deep blue glow. “Yes, sir, he was entirely honest,” the younger guard stated as the glow died down. Okay, what the fuck? Why were his eyes glowing? And do they really think they can just read me that easily? I mean, it was definitely the truth, I didn’t want to go storming in on someone’s operation. But, I had no reason to lie there in the first place.

“Well, I can assure you there is no sort of smuggling occurring in this village. We are too few here to be able to effectively hide such things,” Edran said. “What is your name, young man?” Quite professional, they’re definitely small town cops, I mused.

“Zachary Petel,” I replied. Edran looked to the younger guard once more, and received a small nod in return, the younger man’s eyes glowing again as he looked at me.

“Okay, Mr. Petel… Could you please tell me how you came to be in possession of a destroyed teleport shard,” the man asked.

“Hold on… a what? You mean that crystal that was in my pocket? It’s called a teleport shard? Teleport, as in, go from one place to another but skip the commute? You’re joking, right,” I asked incredulously. What kind of weird hazing is this?

“Yes, exactly, and it is no joking matter. Use of such magics is highly restricted, and you bear no resemblance to any noble family I’ve heard of. So again, why did you have a broken teleport shard,” he asked, much more assertively.

“Very funny, cut it out, man. Magic? I mean, how gullible do you think I am? Like I said, I’ve been lost in the woods for the past couple days. Could you tell me where I am, at least. I’ll go along with whatever you’re trying to pull if you at least give me that,” I pleaded. Edran’s expression relayed both confusion and annoyance in response to my request.

“You are in the village of Kentrall. Now, explain,” he stated plainly.

Well, I guess he technically did as I asked. Not his fault that does fuck-all to help me figure out what country I’m even in, I thought as I decided the best course of action was to leave out as much information as possible. They are cops, and I am here because I was attempting some pretty major theft. “Well, I found it when I woke up. I was in Morocco for some work. I do personal security. Got a little carried away drinking at a local bar, and the next thing I know I wake up in the middle of the woods West of here. When I went to hike toward the mountains to get my bearings, I heard a crunch underfoot and found it on the ground next to where I woke up,” I explained. Edran gave the younger guard another look and his eyes began to glow once more as he analyzed my expression.

“He’s leaving a lot out, but he’s telling the truth. Hell, from what I can tell, he just thought it was some dumb, if not pretty, rock,” the younger man said, and the glow faded away again. Okay, no, that’s a little specific there, bud. That’s damn near an exact quote of an opinion I’ve never voiced, I thought. The feeling of wrong started to creep back into my subconscious, screaming at me that something about this place is severely wrong.

“Okay, seriously, what the fuck is going on here,” I shouted. It may not be the most elegant of approaches, but I was feeling a little too uneasy to bother with politeness. “You’re talking about teleportation bullshit, calling it ‘restricted magic’ when we both know that’s not a thing.” I shot them both an unamused look. “Saying I’m not a noble, so I shouldn’t have one. Tell me, why are you messing with me? What’s with the roleplaying? I mean, come on! You’re wearing medieval armor and you came in with a fucking torch,” I yelled.

Both men gave each other a concerned look, before the younger of the two spoke up. “Sir, are you feeling alright? I know you’re injured, did you receive a blow to the head recently? We can have a healer come to check you out if need be,” he said softly. Okay, this is really creeping me out now. But, someone to check up on my cuts wouldn’t hurt anything.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Yeah, a check in with a doctor would be good. I don’t want to risk an infection. These past couple of days have been hell. But no, I didn’t hit my head. Other than when you people knocked me out, that is. I wish that was all that happened,” I said, thinking back on the multiple life or death situations of the past couple of days. At that, they looked rather remorseful.

“My apologies for that, Mr. Petel. We have had several groups of bandits attempt to scout out the village recently. We thought we had an opportunity on our hands to obtain information as to the locations of their camps. I will escort you to our healer so your wounds can be tended to,” said Edran. And with that, he retrieved a key ring from his pocket and unlocked my shackles. Each guard took up a spot slightly behind and to the side of me and then gestured toward the door.

Rubbing my wrists, I thank Edran for releasing me. It’s not like shackles were tight, but they were far from comfortable, with their lack of padding. Cast iron doesn’t do wonders for the skin. With my newfound freedom, I headed out the door, my escorts following close behind. They guided me up the stairs to the first floor to what seemed to be a barracks. There were other guards milling about who threw the occasional glance my way, but otherwise paid us no mind.

We exited the barracks and I quickly recognized my reconnaissance was not very fruitful. Surrounding the property was the wrought iron fence I spotted earlier. So, not the mayor’s house, then. Well, you know what they say about assumptions. Guess I can’t afford to make too many of those around here, I thought with a slight chuckle.

“See something you find entertaining, Mr. Petel,” Edran asked.

“Not particularly. I just saw the fence while I was scouting around and thought this would’ve been the mayor’s house or something, with the extra security. Just feeling a little stupid for making that assumption is all,” I said.

“Ah, I see. We do not have a mayor here. This village is not large enough to justify independent laws, we simply enforce what the kingdom has set forth for us,” Edran explained.

“Kingdom? Look, man, I can respect the commitment to the bit, but can we be serious here? I have no clue where I am and would ultimately like to make it back home. All I have is my guess that I’m in Eastern Europe,” I said plainly. Honestly, with the stress of the past few days, some straightforward answers would be nice.

Edran gave me a mixed look of confusion and said, “Sir, I have never heard of… Europe. I can’t even place what language that is, as I’ve never heard anything similar. This is the village of Kentrall, it is in the kingdom of Aziah, ruled by king Rala Caran.”

“You expect me to fall for that? I find it very hard to believe you can’t recognize the English language, considering you’re speaking it flawlessly. And I’ve never heard of this ‘kingdom of Aziah’ or ‘king Rala Caran.’ Is this a LARPing thing,” I asked, just about on my last straw. I consider myself to be a patient man, but that patience has limits when it comes to people playing with me. However, with each statement, Edran’s expression of concern deepened.

“I guess we must have hit you harder than we realized. I’ve never heard of English before, and I am not speaking it. We are speaking Azian right now,” he stated.

As I stared at him with a look of sheer disappointment, I noticed something I had been overlooking. I thought I was just in a daze from my hit to the head, but as I paid attention, I slowly caught on. His mouth wasn’t moving in time with his words. It was very subtle, easy to miss if you’re not looking for it. That explains why the interrogation felt so weird. It was dark in there, so much easier to miss, but he’s suffering from desync for sure, I thought.

With so many unanswered questions, I felt my heart rate start to climb and panic started to settle into my being. I did my best to calm my breathing, but it wasn’t the most effective. I started to feel cold and faint, and began sweating a little. Seeing my distress, the guards picked up the pace, and I followed suit. Soon enough, we came to one of the single storied buildings, nearby to the trade area.

Entering the building, I was blasted in the face by what could best be described as the essence of hippie. Scanning the room, there were many shelves with various herbs, some recognizable from the gardens I saw earlier. Amongst the shelving were flasks and beakers of various sizes and shapes, with a separate section designated for basic first aid supplies. It was like walking into a renaissance fair apothecary shop. The smell brought back some memories of spending time at my friend’s house when I was little. They always had incense burning and a healthy supply of essential oils on hand at all times. The memories of better times actually managed to do a good job of bringing me back down to Earth.

Suddenly, the younger guard spoke up. “Hello, Morna, we have a patient for you here. He’s pretty cut up on this back, and we apparently hit him in the head a little too hard bringing him in… He can’t even recognize what language we’re speaking, despite being able to speak just fine. Could you make sure we didn’t do too much damage, please,” Arno asked sweetly. Ah, someone’s happy to have an excuse to see the healer, I see.

“Absolutely! Come on over and take a seat on the bed,” Morna said with a smile and a pat on the bed next to her. With that, my escorts took their leave. Once I sat down, she began removing my bandages. As she did so, she sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. “Ouch, I’d say this is more than ‘pretty cut up.’ How did you end up like this,” she questioned.

“Well, I woke up in the middle of the woods a couple days ago. I decided to climb up the mountains to the South to get a look around and see if I could spot a town nearby. Luckily, I spotted smoke coming from one of the buildings here. When I was climbing back down, I must’ve gotten a little too close to a nest,” I said as she cleaned my wounds. “So, I’m about eighty feet up the cliff, and suddenly I heard a screech, and something slashed at the back of my head. Scared me pretty good, so I lost my grip and fell.” At that, I got a quick gasp, and I clearly had her attention.

“Problem is, I fell pretty far. So when I caught myself, I dislocated my shoulder. Had to make the climb down with just the one arm, so I wasn’t able to fight the damn bird off. Fucker just kept attacking me the rest of the way down,” I said.

“Wow, that is quite the feat. You must have quite the resolve to ignore being shredded up like this,” Morna said.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far. I didn’t exactly have a choice. It was either that or fall to my death,” I said. “Still, beat the hell out the day before. I got chased by some rabid deer. I’ve seen aggressive wildlife before, but never like that. Felt like the thing was hunting me.” At that, I got another look of confusion.

“What is a deer, and what makes one rabid?” As she asked that, she held her hands above my shoulders and I started to feel a strange cooling, tingling sensation. The feeling was accompanied by significant relief from the previous burning pain from the cuts.

“Damn, what’d you just put on my cuts? That feels amazing,” I said with a relaxed sigh. “Anyway, though, you too? A deer, you know. Brown fur, four legs, hoofed mammal. The males have a pair of antlers. And rabid as in rabies. Makes animals and people go crazy to the point they can’t even drink water, and they start attacking everyone around,” I explained. “The only thing is, I’ve never seen rabies cause physical malformations. Its eyes were pure white, and its antlers had turned black, almost looking like obsidian. They also looked sharper, if that makes sense,” I said, hoping to maybe coax out some answers as to any local diseases I might need to watch out for.

With that statement, all of the color drained from her face and she froze. “Black antlers and white eyes… What you saw is not called a deer. It is called a Knell, and you are luckier than you realize. If you felt like it was hunting you, it was. We need to let the captain know where you saw it. They are extremely dangerous, and we will need to send out a hunting party to kill it,” she said as the color slowly returned back to her. With that, she started toward the door.

“Wait, hold on, are you gonna at least bandage me back up,” I asked before she made it out the door. Failing to hide the confusion on her face, she turned to respond.

“What for? I’m done for now. They may have been bad, but they were still just cuts. That’s an easy fix with even the most minor of healing spells, now lay down and stay down,” she said and walked out the door to retrieve the captain.

Healing spell, seriously? I reached back to check how bad the cuts were, as I didn’t do a damage assessment before patching myself up. Imagine my surprise when I reached back and my hand touched scarring, not cuts. And the pain was gone, too. What the fuck miracle drug did she put on me? Even the best doctors in America couldn’t treat me that easily. I’ll have to see if I can find the secret here to sell back home. That could be some good fuck you money. As I sat there trying to make any sort of sense of my situation, I didn’t even notice myself drifting off to sleep.