12:00 p.m. - At The village headman's house
After a moment of anxious anticipation, Ryan finally stood before Lord Draemyr. The knight, resplendent in his battle-forged armor, regarded Ryan with a mixture of admiration and curiosity.
"You've managed to save your village from the onslaught of over 20,000 Drakensvale soldiers," Draemyr remarked, a note of flattery evident in his tone. "With just 200 villagers, your courage is commendable."
Ryan felt a swell of pride at Draemyr's words, but it was quickly tempered by the weight of his own doubts. He was aware that luck had played a crucial role that night, not merely his own efforts. Yet, there was still a nagging question lying unspoken in Draemyr's gaze.
"It's quite the feat," Draemyr continued, his steel-gray eyes scrutinizing Ryan intently. "But I must ask—what was the Umbrathorax doing here after a century of absence? And what about the items you carry? They seem far beyond mere coincidence."
Ryan gulped, a small knot of unease tightening in his gut. He remembered the dragon's voice that had erupted from him during the confrontation—a power he barely understood. He kept his expression calm, even as his heart quickened at the memory.
Draemyr leaned closer, his curiosity piqued. "I heard a dragon's roar during the clash. It was unlike anything I've ever witnessed. Is it true that you can summon such a voice?"
Ryan shifted slightly, taken aback by the knight's revelations. "I… I didn't summon anything, Lord Draemyr," he stammered, stalling for time. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Draemyr's brow furrowed, but before he could press further, realization washed over him. "Historically, Eryndral Forest has very few dragons compared to other regions. They're nearly extinct due to their tendency to be hunted. The fact that one might reappear… it's remarkable. Forgive me. I got carried away with the implications."
Draemyr hesitated before adding, "However, you will not be the village chief anymore; someone will be my knight instead," he said with a firm nod.
Ryan breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to relinquish the burdensome title. "That makes sense, my lord."
"But," Draemyr continued, his tone growing serious, "it's still true that you protected the village during its darkest hour. For your bravery, you shall receive ten silver coins as thanks."
Ryan felt a flicker of appreciation at the knight's generosity but quickly saw an opportunity for something more substantial. "What about the merchant guild?" he asked, the thought of seeking a safe career path sparking in his mind.
Draemyr appeared contemplative. "That is up to you. We hear whispers from the royal mines, reports of various associations forming. You could sell whatever you wish."
Ryan nodded, the wheels in his mind turning. This could present a unique advantage, a way to carve out a niche in this world. "Where does one begin?"
Draemyr regarded him with renewed interest. "Where do you come from, exactly? You speak differently than the people here."
"I'm from the extraterrestrial lands to the west," Ryan said, careful to avoid revealing too much about his origins.
"Extraterrestrial? What is the name of your kingdom?"
"The United States of America," Ryan replied, a smirk stretching across his face. The words felt peculiar on his tongue, a reminder of the world he once knew.
Draemyr's brow creased with intrigue. "That's a strange name. Does it mean a small state united?"
Ryan nodded, going along with the knight's interpretation. "Yes, that is correct."
The two talked amicably, their laughter punctuating the conversation as they exchanged stories of valor and dreams, building a camaraderie that transcended their differences. But then Draemyr's attention shifted back to his original query.
"Back to my first question, however," he interjected, his expression growing serious once again. "That voice of a dragon… how did you do it?"
Caught off guard, Ryan hesitated, searching for the right words. "It's because of a magic stone," he said after a moment, hoping it would satisfy Draemyr's curiosity.
"Magic stone?" Draemyr echoed, leaning forward with interest.
Ryan explained perfunctorily, "It's a stone that enhances sound, allowing me to project powerful noises."
As if on cue, he pulled out his phone, a relic from his past, and played an old sound— the unmistakable roar of a dragon he'd preserved from a game he loved. Draemyr's eyes widened in astonishment.
"Interesting," Draemyr breathed, amazed. "Can you provide it for me?"
Ryan's heart sank; he knew he had to lie to protect himself. "When I got here, I was uncertain of my return to my hometown. I can't guarantee I'll be able to obtain it for you."
Draemyr appeared to understand the implications behind Ryan's words, and nodded solemnly.
13:00 p.m. - At Village Square
After concluding his conversation with Lord Draemyr, Ryan felt a shift within himself—a dawning realization that this was just the beginning of his journey in this fantastical realm. He inhaled deeply, gathering his scattered thoughts, and considered returning to his own world. Yet, a glance around the village of Eryndral shifted his focus. Even amid the devastation wrought by the dragon's destruction, the village held a certain charm.
People bustled about, repairing homes and reinforcing battered structures. The sounds of clanging tools and laughter mingled in the air, an oddly comforting melody despite the lingering scars of war. Ryan took a moment to appreciate the beauty of it all—towering crystalline-barked trees, vibrant flowers peeking from the cracks in the cobblestones, and the rustic medieval homes—all of it felt so alive, even under a veil of sorrow.
But amidst the quaint allure of Eryndral, Ryan realized he was still out of place. The villagers moved gracefully in their medieval clothing while he stood out in his mismatched, modern attire. Determined to fit in better, he sought out a villager passing by—someone who might provide the answers he needed.
"Excuse me," Ryan called, stepping in front of a sturdy-looking man with sun-kissed skin and muscled arms, "Can you help me? I'm looking for a clothing store, a blacksmith, and perhaps a stable as well."
The man, introducing himself as Rowan, nodded thoughtfully. "You won't find a blacksmith here, I'm afraid. The village relies on trade with neighboring towns for metalwork."
Ryan furrowed his brow. "And a stable?"
Rowan scratched his head, looking bemused. "I'm not sure about that either. Most villagers rely on walking or hitchhiking with merchants."
Ryan's heart sank. He needed travel options, especially if he was planning to return to his home planet. Just then, a thought struck him. "How do I hitchhike with a merchant? Is there anyone here that could help?"
A look of realization spread over Rowan's face, and he said, "Well, they say there's an Antlersteed for sale not far from here in a neighboring village."
Ryan's eyes widened in confusion. "What's an Antlersteed?"
"It's a magnificent mount!" Rowan grinned, a proud gleam in his eye. "Aurelthorn takes great pride in these creatures. Bigger than a warhorse, with branching antlers that sparkle like they hold ancient starlight. They're known for their strength and grace—perfect for someone looking to travel."
Ryan's mind raced with intrigue and a mix of excitement. "Can you take me there?"
Rowan hesitated for a moment but then nodded willingly. "Of course, I still see you as our village headman."
Ryan's heart warmed to the thought but then felt a twinge of concern. "I'm not the village headman anymore, Rowan. I relinquished that title willingly. You don't have to treat me with such regard."
Rowan waved his hand dismissively. "Regardless, you saved us. Your actions speak louder than any title. Thank you for that."
Ryan smiled, feeling a mix of gratitude and obligation. It seemed he had made a genuine impact, and though he wished to distance himself from the weight of leadership, he couldn't ignore the connection woven between them all in the village.
"Let's go then," Ryan said with resolve. As they set off towards the neighboring village, Ryan cast one last glance at Eryndral, its resilient spirit echoing through his every step. Whatever lay ahead, he felt it wouldn't be just another chance at survival; it would be the start of a new chapter in a world filled with wonders he had yet to discover.
The deal was done, and as Ryan prepared to buy the Antlersteed mount, he knew he needed to blend in better with the villagers. He decided to seek out brighter clothes—garments that mirrored the local styles. A quick glance in the nearby market revealed a variety of tunics, trousers, and cloaks fashioned from rich fabrics in warm colors that depicted the culture of Aurelthorn.
After selecting a simple tunic adorned with intricate patterns—signifying the village's natural connection to the Eryndral Forest—he exchanged his old clothes for a fresh outfit, stowing away his previous attire in his bag. He couldn't bring himself to discard those once-functional garments. They were laden with memories from his past life: the dirt and soot upon them evoking fleeting moments of joy and shame alike. They were a reminder of who he was, the life he had lived before this fantastical journey began.
As Ryan changed, he couldn't shake the nagging question of how his powers truly worked. It felt like he possessed a unique skill to shift the past from the present, existing in a cosmic space where choices had far-reaching consequences. He imagined himself in that swirling floating house, spinning through infinite realities, each one offering a glimpse at different paths he could take. He was presented with the job of selecting two out of three past events—threads of experiences interwoven that had shaped him in countless ways.
"What a complicated power," he mused internally, trying to grasp its breadth. "Quantum Nexus of Infinite Probabilistic Multiversal Aeonic Continuum Convergence Algorithm for Absolute Chrono-Singular Fate Determination!!!." The name slipped past his lips before he could catch himself, sounding more like the ramblings of a madman than anything he would take seriously.
Rowan glanced at him, his brow raised in confusion. "Are you casting a spell?"
Caught off guard, Ryan flushed with embarrassment. "Uh, no. Just thinking out loud," he stammered, feeling the heat creep up his neck. He hoped Rowan wouldn't press further into what had been nothing more than a fleeting thought.
Before long, they arrived at the stable, but Ryan could hardly hide his surprise. "Wait, it looks like a moose?"
Standing before him was the Antlersteed, a magnificent creature indeed, merging the grace of a horse with the robust presence of a moose. It stood tall, even above Ryan's average height, with massive antlers that splayed outward like a constellation of branches against the blue sky. The antlers shimmered faintly, casting an ethereal glow that danced with the light.
"Indeed," Rowan confirmed proudly, "They're not only a symbol of Aurelthorn but considered magical. Capable of traversing great distances swiftly, they are also gentle and loyal."
Ryan approached the animal cautiously, awed by its size and majestic appearance. He could sense a deep connection between the creature and the land—a representation of Aurelthorn's wild spirit. "So, um, can I just ride it? Or is there more to it?"
Rowan shrugged. "You'd need to build a bond with it first. Usually, the Antlersteed chooses its rider, but your nature as a hero might resonate with it. You should try."
Heart racing with anticipation, Ryan extended a hand towards the Antlersteed. The creature regarded him curiously, its large, expressive eyes reflecting a spark of intelligence. He took a deep breath, channeling his confidence as he stepped closer, hoping to forge that vital connection.
"Come on, old friend," he whispered, memories of his own life echoing in his heart, "Let's see if we can become partners on this journey."
The Antlersteed sniffed his outstretched hand, then with a gentle nuzzle, leaned into him. A smile crept onto Ryan's face, as he felt the bond beginning to form. Perhaps in this world, he could still find companionship and purpose amid the chaos.
"Looks like that's a yes," Rowan said, chuckling at Ryan's elation.
With new energy bubbling within him, Ryan prepared to embark on this next chapter, with the majestic Antlersteed standing beside him, ready to traverse the wilds of Aurelthorn together.
As Ryan approached the owner of the Antlersteed, he immediately sensed a certain air of wealth about the man. The owner, introducing himself as Bromund, wore fine clothing that hinted at his prosperity. His demeanor was both proud and shrewd.
"Welcome! I see you're interested in my mounts. I raise many, though most are suited for pulling carts rather than for war," Bromund said, gesturing around the stable filled with various creatures. His eyes sparkled with the excitement of a businessman showcasing his wares.
Ryan didn't waste any time. "How much for this Antlersteed?" he asked, pointing towards the impressive creature he had just bonded with.
Bromund's expression shifted to one of calculated seriousness. "Ah, this magnificent beast will cost you around four silver coins."
Rowan, standing beside Ryan, raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Four silver coins? It was only two a few months ago!"
Bromund frowned; it was clear that the price had drawn his ire. "Well, I raised the price myself! The Eryndral Kingdom has been at war for ten years! Supplies are scarce, and demand for mounts is high. Furthermore, this Antlersteed, unlike others, is battle-trained, which is worth significantly more—think of it in gold coins!"
Ryan felt a pang of sympathy for the farmer, understanding the pressures of the ongoing conflict. But he couldn't overlook the potential for being swindled. "I see your point, but I will offer you three silver coins," he proposed, hoping to strike a compromise.
Bromund hesitated, his brows knitted in consideration. Yet the urge to sell was strong—he needed the coin amidst the unstable economy of war. "Very well, I'll accept your price," he finally relented, a hint of frustration in his tone.
With the deal in place, Ryan chose the Antlersteed that felt like a perfect fit. It featured a striking black coat, accented by horns glowing a vibrant green, making it stand out in the stable.
Bromund completed the trade, but then he shifted his tone, intrigued by potential further business. "And here's something else you may need," he said, presenting a sturdy cart nearby.
Ryan's curiosity piqued as he asked, "What's the price of the cart?"
Bromund rubbed his hands together, delighting in the conversation. "For a cargo load, you're looking at about 20 to 40 silver coins. If you want a larger, four-wheeled military merchant cart? That'll cost you between 60 and 100 silver coins."
Ryan's eyes widened in shock. He had only received ten silver coins from Draemyr, three of which were already spent on the Antlersteed. He felt a sense of dread at how quickly his funds were dwindling. Curse you, Draemyr, he thought bitterly, feeling the weight of his financial situation pressing down on him.
Exhaling slowly, he accepted his limits. "I think I'll have to pass on the cart for now." Instead, he sought a temporary solution. "What about a place to stay for the night? I need to ensure my Antlersteed has a safe spot."
Bromund's eyes brightened. "Ah, a night's lodging for your mount will cost you only ten copper coins," he said, as he calculated the figures in his head.
"Great! And is there a saddle involved?" Ryan inquired.
"Absolutely! Consider it free with the lodging," Bromund replied, his tone becoming more agreeable now that the deal was sealed.
As Ryan handed over the coins, he noted that he had six silver coins and ninety copper coins remaining, giving him a better handle on the currency mechanics in this fortuitously strange world.
With all the arrangements made, and after a brief exchange of thanks, the small crowd began to disperse. Ryan turned to Rowan, gratitude shining in his eyes. "I appreciate your help back there. You saved me from making a costly mistake."
Rowan shrugged modestly but smiled sincerely. "Just looking out for you. You've earned the trust of the village, even if you don't see yourself as the headman anymore."
With a nod, Ryan felt a wave of responsibility wash over him again. "Now, what should I do next? Where should I stay for the night?"
"Follow me," Rowan replied, leading Ryan away from the stable. "I know a place that can accommodate newcomers. It's not far from here and doesn't break the bank."
Ryan followed closely, filled with a mixture of relief and hope, the anticipation of what tomorrow might bring guiding his steps onward. As they walked, he couldn't help but wonder how this journey would unfold amidst the backdrop of war and magic, and whether he would ever truly find his way back home.
06:00 a.m. - At Eryndral Forest
As dawn broke over the horizon, the sun cast a golden hue across the land, but for Seraphina, it illuminated a path rife with peril. She sprinted through the dense foliage, her heart pounding in her chest as the sounds of pursuit echoed close behind. The Aurelthorn army was relentless, its soldiers were fiercely determined, driven by duty and obligation to capture the radiant general of the Drakensvale Empire.
Those who chased her were encumbered by invisibility cloaks, which shrouded them in shades of shadow and despair, marking them as both elusive and fearsome. As she glanced back intermittently, Seraphina could see glimpses of figures darting between the trees, their forms momentarily emerging from the cover of their magical disguises. Every rustle of leaves and snap of a twig heightened her awareness; she could sense their numbers were overwhelming.
Seraphina pushed harder, her muscles burning as she maneuvered through the underbrush, desperation propelling her. But soon she found herself cornered, reaching a steep cliff that towered over a rushing river below. The roar of the water seemed to mock her as it tumbled over the rocks, a treacherous reminder of her precarious position.
Gripping her sword tightly, she spun around to confront the approaching soldiers, her expression a fierce mask of defiance. The Draemyr troops closed in, their voices echoing with jeers and taunts meant to unnerve her.
"Give up, Seraphina! You cannot escape!" one soldier shouted, brandishing his weapon as he stepped forward, emboldened by the support of his comrades.
Seraphina stood firm, surveying the daunting landscape. The river wound its way south toward the Kingdom of Aurelthorn, its turbulent waters swirling and crashing against the rocks below like a tempest of fate. There was no way out; only the bitter choice lay before her—fighting against insurmountable odds or plunging into the unknown.
With a quick scan of the surrounding terrain, she realized her options were fast evaporating. As their laughter rang in her ears, she felt the weight of the overwhelming odds pressing down on her. They would not allow her to retreat or regroup—this would be the end of her pursuit.
In that moment, a fierce determination ignited within her spirit. There could be no surrender; she would choose her fate. With a deep breath, Seraphina launched herself off the cliff, the wind whipping around her as she fell through the air, sword held tightly to her chest.
The rush of the river's cold waters enveloped her as she hit the surface with a force that momentarily stole her breath away. The current pulled her downstream, disorienting her as the world above faded into chaos; the sounds of battle and shouts grew distant. She fought to swim, feeling each fleeting moment she spent submerged like lighting strikes threatening to snuff out her light.
Seraphina broke the surface, gasping for a breath as she fought against the stream's pull, using the strength she had cultivated through years of training and battle. Her determination steadied her heart, and she ducked beneath the water once more, seeking refuge and slipping away from the reach of her pursuers.