Chapter 1 Wrong Place, Wrong Time

I sat in the cold stone prison cell. The walls were worn, and the door was aged wood with heavy iron bands. I was literally wearing a potato sack. A dark wooden bowl of potato soup had steam rising from it near a stone slab that was my bed. I was not hungry, though. It was my second day of residence. How did I get here?

My nephew decided to have a shotgun wedding in South Dakota…in January. His high school girlfriend was pregnant, and her father was insisting on it. I decided to drive out from North Carolina for the wedding. While I was driving across the state of South Dakota, it started snowing…white-out conditions snowing…my phone was not getting any signal, so my GPS was not working. It had gotten so bad that visibility was nil, and the snow was accumulating fast on the highway with no plows in sight. I decided I had to get off the road.

If you have ever driven through South Dakota, you know there is nothing in South Dakota. I took what I thought was an exit off the highway and drove down a road looking for a hotel, restaurant, or at least a gas station to wait out the storm. Well, there were none of these things as I drove a short way down the narrow road off the highway. I tried to turn around but, of course, got my little Toyota RAV4 stuck. I sat in the car for about an hour, watching my gas gauge go down. I started turning the car on and off, heating the car when it got too cold. I got out every time I restarted the car to ensure the exhaust was clear and then eagerly warmed my cold body and hands for a few minutes.

Soon, it was sunset, and my gas was getting close to empty. It was around 1:00 a.m. when I finally ran out of gas. Fortunately, it was barely snowing now. I noticed a light in the distance. I was fairly certain it was not a street lamp, so I bundled up and approached it. I had to break through the 3-foot-deep snow to reach the light. It was tough, but when I finally arrived, I found it was a large barn. I walked around the building looking for the associated farmhouse but didn’t see anything in the minimal light. I then decided to break into the barn, and I was able to pry the old door open just enough to squeeze in.

I used the light on my phone to examine the interior. Eventually, I found what appeared to be some old horse blankets. At least they smelled like horses. Being cold and exhausted, I bundled the horse blankets into a makeshift nest and curled up to get some sleep. I could see my breath, and my fingers and toes were numb from the cold.

I woke up to some light bleeding through the barn door. I looked for my phone and couldn’t find it, and to my shock, I was also naked. I didn’t remember stripping, but I had been cold, exhausted, and disoriented. I began crawling on the floor, looking for my clothes. I noticed it wasn’t that cold. The barn door swung open as I was searching on my hands and knees. A middle-aged woman stood there, and we stared momentarily at each other.

Weirdly, the first thing I noticed after the woman was that there was no snow outside. Had I just pulled a Rip Van Winkle?

Well, she screamed and ran to the right. I tried to get her to calm down, running after her and yelling that I was not going to hurt her, but I forgot I was naked. I ran out of the barn to find myself standing butt-naked in the middle of a farm. There was an open stable to the left with some horses, a handful of chickens running around, and a large central farmhouse that had three young men running from it. I tried to talk to the angry boys, but they didn’t seem to speak English and were yelling at me. Eventually, an older man came out with a small ancient crossbow. I knelt and immediately put my hands behind my head to appear as non-threatening as possible. It worked as I wasn’t shot, and eventually, the younger boys tied me up, talking rapidly with their parents.

After talking amongst themselves, they seemed to decide I needed to be brought to the police. They put me in a wooden wagon, still naked, and hooked up some horses. I then spent the next six hours bouncing around, watching fields of wheat and rye pass by. My captors didn’t respond to any of my efforts to communicate. Eventually, we entered a walled city that would fit any medieval setting. I was quickly escorted into a stone building and into my current cell. I was given a large, coarse burlap sack with holes for my head and arms.

No one could communicate with me. But after two days, finally, a man entered my cell. He wore rich yellow robes with a pristine white shirt and black pants. He had an impassive face as he stood over me and looked at the half-eaten bowl of potato soup.

The Magistrate introduced himself by activating a medallion that translated for us. “This device will allow us to talk openly with each other foreigner.” I processed that. So, this world had some type of technology—or magic? “I am Magistrate Advocate Persius. Your crimes have been logged. Do you wish your name to be associated with the writ, or should we leave it blank?”

“Crimes?” I questioned, standing. He stepped back but did not seem afraid of me. I did not look all that threatening in a sack.

He straightened himself, “You have been convicted of four separate charges. Trespassing, assault, attempted rape, and theft,” he said, reading from the parchment. “Each crime has a penalty of ten silver.”

My mouth hung, unable to work. I stuttered, “What? I had no trial.”

The Magistrate sighed, “The truthseeker already confirmed the crimes by questioning Hydran and his family. The verdict has been stamped and logged, and the court has paid the fines to him. You must now return the funds to the court.”

“Can I talk to the truthseeker to clear my crimes?” I asked hopefully.

“No, he has already returned to the city. We only received this translation amulet on loan to explain things to you since you seem to be a foreigner in the Empire,” he said with almost pity in his voice.

Besides trespassing, everything seemed to be concocted by the farmers for as much wealth as possible. I wanted to be angry but didn’t think that would benefit me at the moment. The Magistrate sighed at my silence, “If you can not pay, you can be ‘labored out’ by the court. It should take two years to pay the funds back to the court.” My disbelief was evident, and I think he smirked, “Or you can join the standing army. Foreigners are welcome, and you will pick up our tongue quickly. You will be trained, fed, and sheltered. The pay for a soldier is one silver and eight copper per week after you finish the seven-week training—three times the remuneration of a laborer.”

He expounded on the army, “You look a little flabby but have excellent size. Whatever your profession prior to your crimes,” he scrutinized my tall, overweight frame, “the army will teach you discipline and help you acclimate to the Empire. After your debt is paid, you will draw a bi-monthly wage. Enough to return to your homeland,” he smiled reassuringly.

I hesitated as it seemed he was more a recruitment director than a magistrate, and I could guess why my trial had not included my presence. I was assuming I was not on Earth or Earth’s past or future. My anxiety was holding silence as my mind raced. I was alone and uncertain how they would treat someone from another world.

“I will join the army,” I said hesitantly. My decision was for a few reasons—first, the protection of being in an organization. Second, I had nothing, so being fed and clothed was an incentive. The third reason was that I had no idea how to defend myself in this new world, and I felt my best chance of living was learning how to fight.

The Magistrate smiled like it had been a foregone conclusion. He was nice enough to answer my questions patiently, as he thought I was from a distant kingdom. I was interested in the currency system to find out how in debt I actually was. The monetary system followed: one hundred copper coins equal one silver coin. One hundred silver coins equal one gold coin. He showed me a silver coin, and it was about the size of a nickel. A large coin was the size of a half dollar and was worth ten coins.

The Magistrate produced a large stone tablet with silvery writing on it, “You are fortunate that I was here testing some youth. This is an assessment tablet. Do you have them where you come from?”

“No. What does it do?” I asked, looking at the well-worn stone.

He smiled tightly, “It will check your potential and ability. The army has minimum standards, but with your size, I think this is a formality.” I was just shy of 6’1” and somewhere between 210 and 220 pounds. He instructed me to hold the tablet. I held the tablet for a moment, and the Magistrate activated it with his magic—definitely magic and not technology. It glowed, and the silvery script appeared. The letters looked vaguely familiar, but I could not read the words. The Magistrate told me what each line revealed, knowing that I could not read it if I did not speak the language.

The Magistrate pointed to each line and read it to me, explaining each as he read it.

Physical

Mental

Magical

Strength

/79

Intellect

/54

Aether Pool

/21

Power

/82

Reasoning

/59

Channeling

/55

Quickness

/49

Perception

/60

Aether Shaping

/8

Dexterity

/55

Insight

/48

Aether Tolerance

/50

Endurance

/87

Resilience

/71

Aether Resistance

/19

Constitution

/65

Empathy

/21

Prime Aether Affinity

Space

Coordination

/60

Fortitude

/87

Minor Aether Affinity

Time