Vernon Aerys awoke to the soft glow of dawn filtering through his chamber’s narrow window. The air was crisp, a reminder of the cool late-spring morning outside. He took a moment to savor the sensation, the delicate balance between the night’s chill and the promise of a warm day ahead. Rising from his bed, he performed a series of stretches, feeling the strength and vitality of his youthful body.
He stepped out onto the balcony, breathing deeply the fresh morning air tinged with the earthy smell of dew-covered grass and distant pine forests. The castle grounds were still quiet, the workers and servants just beginning their day. The sky above was a pale blue, with the first rays of sunlight casting long shadows across the courtyard. A slight breeze rustled the leaves of the trees, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming flowers.
Vernon descended to the courtyard and began his morning exercise routine, pushing his body to its limits with push-ups, squats, and running laps around the perimeter. The physical exertion invigorated him, sharpening his mind for the day ahead. After finishing, he made his way to the well and splashed his face with cold water, the icy shock clearing away the last remnants of sleep.
As he returned to his chambers, he noticed a few castle workers observing him from a distance, their expressions a mix of curiosity and astonishment. The previous Vernon had never shown such discipline or care for his well-being. Whispers followed him as he walked through the halls.
“He’s changed,” one servant murmured to another. “Have you seen how he exercises every morning?”
“And his hygiene,” another replied. “He washes himself every day. I’ve never seen a noble do that.”
Vernon pretended not to notice the discussions, focusing instead on the tasks ahead. He dressed quickly and made his way to the dining hall for breakfast. The meal was simple—coarse bread, a chunk of cheese, and a cup of watered-down ale. He chewed thoughtfully, already planning improvements. Proper nutrition would benefit everyone, but he knew he had to prioritize his efforts.
After breakfast, Vernon headed to his study, where Roderic awaited him with a stack of reports. The steward greeted him with a respectful nod. “Good morning, my lord. Shall we begin?”
Vernon settled behind his desk, the wooden surface worn smooth by years of use. “Yes, Roderic. Let’s go over the current state of the barony.”
The two men spent the next few hours reviewing various matters—crop yields, livestock health, taxation, and the general well-being of the villagers. Vernon listened intently, asking pointed questions and taking detailed notes.
“We need to focus on improving our agricultural practices,” Vernon said. “Poor harvests and failing crops are our most pressing issues.”
Roderic nodded. “Indeed, my lord. Last year’s harvest was particularly bad, and with neighboring countries experiencing famine, our situation could become dire.”
“Let’s start with a new farming tool,” Vernon suggested. “I have an idea for a heavy, wheeled plow that should help us till the soil more effectively.”
Roderic looked intrigued. “A wheeled plow? That sounds promising, my lord.”
“I’ll speak with Arturo about it later,” Vernon replied. “For now, I need some time alone to work on the design.”
Vernon dismissed Roderic and turned to his journal, an old leather-bound book he had found among his predecessor’s belongings. Using his modern knowledge, he carefully sketched the design for the heavy, wheeled plow, annotating it with detailed notes in English. He wrote about his feelings, his plans, and the events of his new life, ensuring that if the journal were ever discovered, its contents would remain a mystery to anyone who couldn’t read his native tongue.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
After finalizing the design, Vernon summoned a carriage and set out for the village. The ride was bumpy, the uneven dirt roads jostling the carriage and its occupants. He made a mental note to consider improvements for the future, such as designing leaf springs to smooth the ride.
The village was a stark contrast to the castle. Dilapidated houses with thatch roofs lined muddy, uneven roads. The air was filled with the scent of livestock and the smoke of cooking fires. Villagers moved about their daily routines, their expressions weary and resigned.
Vernon, accompanied by Captain Royce, approached a group of farmers gathered near the village square. They looked up in surprise, not expecting a visit from their baron.
“Good morning,” Vernon greeted them. “I’ve come to discuss your farming practices and see how we can improve our harvests.”
The farmers exchanged nervous glances before one, an older man with weathered skin and a hunched back, stepped forward. “My lord, last year’s harvest was poor. The soil is hard, and our tools are worn. We worry that this year will be just as bad, especially with the famine spreading.”
Vernon listened carefully, noting their concerns. “I understand your worries. I’ve designed a new plow that should help us till the soil more deeply and efficiently. I’ll have it made and delivered to you as soon as possible. In the meantime, continue with your current methods and report any issues to me directly.”
The farmers seemed hopeful, their skepticism giving way to cautious optimism. Vernon continued his journey, next visiting Arturo’s forge. The blacksmith was a burly man with powerful arms and a friendly demeanor. He greeted Vernon with a respectful nod.
“My lord, what brings you to my forge today?”
“I have a new project for you, Arturo,” Vernon said, showing him the design for the heavy, wheeled plow. “This plow should help our farmers work the soil more effectively. Can you make it?”
Arturo studied the design, his eyes widening with interest. “This is remarkable, my lord. I can see the benefits already. I’ll get to work on it right away.”
“Excellent,” Vernon replied. “If you have any suggestions for improvements, feel free to share them.”
Arturo nodded. “I might reinforce the frame here and adjust the blade angle slightly. It’ll make it more durable and efficient.”
“Thank you, Arturo. I trust your judgment,” Vernon said. “I’ll also be speaking with Jack and Alvin about infrastructure improvements. We need better roads and more robust buildings.”
Leaving the forge, Vernon made his way to the village’s senior carpenter, Jack, and the mason, Alvin. The two men greeted him with a mixture of respect and curiosity.
“Gentlemen,” Vernon began, “we need to discuss various infrastructure projects. Our roads are in poor condition, and many buildings are falling apart. I want to start with the basics and work our way up.”
Jack nodded. “We’ve been patching things up as best we can, my lord, but we lack the proper materials and manpower.”
Alvin added, “And the knowledge, too. If you have ideas, we’re eager to hear them.”
Vernon spent the next hour discussing plans for better roads, sturdier buildings, and improved sanitation. He emphasized the importance of proper drainage to prevent flooding and reduce the spread of disease. Jack and Alvin listened intently, offering their own insights and suggestions.
As he walked through the village, Vernon couldn’t help but feel a mix of hope and frustration. The people were resilient, but their conditions were dire. Waste littered the streets, and the smell of decay hung in the air. He thought of introducing indoor plumbing eventually, but he knew it would be a long process.
He looked up at the sky, noting its alien hue and the closer proximity of the sun. The sky was a deeper blue, almost violet, and the sun seemed larger and more intense than he remembered from Earth. It was a constant reminder of his strange new world.
He thought about the barony’s place in the larger Kingdom of Arzinor, situated in the northwest part of the Mezonia continent. Tyrol was on the northwestern edge of the kingdom, bordered by vast, undeveloped lands. The potential for expansion and growth was immense, but so were the challenges.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the village, Vernon returned to his carriage and made his way back to the castle. He felt a sense of accomplishment but also an awareness of the long road ahead. He had started to lay the groundwork for a better future, but there was still much to be done.
Back in his study, Vernon reviewed his notes and added new ideas to his journal. He wrote about his conversations with the villagers, his plans for new innovations, and his observations of this alien world. The journal was a record of his thoughts and experiences, a way to keep himself grounded in this strange new reality.
As he prepared for bed, Vernon felt a deep sense of purpose. He had been given a second chance, and he was determined to make the most of it. The people of Tyrol deserved a better life, and he would do everything in his power to provide it. With the right innovations and a steadfast commitment to progress, he believed that Tyrol could become a beacon of hope in a world shrouded in darkness.