Hiroshi had been stuck in bed for six days.
He could walk a little now. He can do Stretch and Eat more than soup.
The healer came every morning to cast healing spells. But mostly he just lay there, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how these people could summon heroes from other worlds but apparently couldn't summon anyone who knew how to make a decent video game.
Man, this world really sucks.
On twelfth day, he asked for books.
He knew it was better to learn something than to waste an entire day staring at the ceiling. The pale surface above his bed offered no answers, only silence that pressed down on him like a weight. Hours would drift by in that stillness, and with them came thoughts that circled endlessly, growing louder the longer he lay there. He could feel his mind turning against itself, restless and uneasy, as if it needed something to hold onto before he becomes mental. So he reached for books, for scraps of knowledge, something solid in a world that threatened to dissolve into emptiness if he did nothing at all.
The maid brought them the next afternoon in a canvas bag. She set it on the small table beside his bed.
Hiroshi pulled out the first one. A history text, the kind used in Church schools. The cover was worn but the binding held. "Thank you."
"There's a geography book in there too. And a bestiary." She smoothed her apron. "Figured you'd want to know more about the world you almost died in."
"Twice," he said.
"Twice," she agreed, and left.
Hiroshi pulled out the first book. A history text, the kind used in Church schools. The cover was worn leather, cracked at the corners, and the binding showed signs of repeated use. Gold lettering, half-faded, spelled out "A Comprehensive History of Eynor: Volume One."
Hiroshi opened the history book and started reading.
The world was called Eynor. Five continents, dozens of smaller island chains, and oceans whose depths remained largely unexplored. He was on Eldor, the central continent, the one where most of recorded history had taken place and most blood had been spilled.
Eldor was divided into six major regions, each with its own government, culture, and collection of problems that seemed designed to make life difficult for everyone involved.
The Kingdom of Astoria sat in the center, occupying the most fertile lands and commanding the major trade routes. A hereditary monarchy that had lasted three hundred years. The capital city, Lumin, housed half a million people within its walls. The Church of the Twelve held significant power here, not technically ruling, but advising, guiding, and occasionally threatening excommunication when the king made decisions they didn't like.
Astoria's population was eight million. Mostly human, with small populations of half-elves and dwarves concentrated in the merchant districts. The kingdom was known for three things: hero summoning, merchant guilds, and a bureaucracy so extensive that applying for a trading license required seventeen different stamps from nine different offices.
The book described Astoria as "a beacon of civilization and order."
North of Astoria was the Drakenwald Federation. Three million beastkin divided into dozens of clans, wolf, bear, tiger, eagle, and others the book listed in meticulous detail. They lived in scattered settlements throughout a massive forest that covered nearly a third of the northern territories.
The Federation was ruled by a council of clan chieftains who met four times a year to settle disputes, make laws, and occasionally declare war on each other before someone talked them down. They had warrior traditions, shamanistic magic, and honor codes that dictated everything from how to challenge someone to single combat to the proper way to serve tea to a rival.
The book painted them as noble savages.
East of Astoria lay the Evernight Dominion. Demon territory. Five million inhabitants–demons, dark elves, vampires, liches, and various undead that the book categorized with clinical precision.
They occupied a region of perpetual twilight, where the sun never fully rose and the stars never fully set.
The Dominion was ruled by the Demon King, whose name was apparently too dangerous to write in a Church-approved textbook. Beneath him were seven Demon Generals, each controlling a specific territory and commanding armies that could level cities if they chose to march.
The book called it a meritocracy. Power was earned through strength, cunning, or magical ability. Weakness was punished. The strong thrived. It sounded brutal, but according to the text, the Dominion's infrastructure was more efficient than most human kingdoms, their roads were better maintained, and their crime rates were lower because criminals were dealt with swiftly and permanently.
Hiroshi found that darkly amusing.
South was the Merchant Republic of Aurum. Four million people spread across a network of coastal city-states, each governed by wealthy families who elected a council to handle republic-wide decisions. They controlled most of the maritime trade routes, dealt in information as readily as goods, and maintained strict neutrality in continental conflicts because war was bad for business.
The book mentioned almost casually that slavery was legal in Aurum. Not as brutal as historical examples from Earth, apparently–slaves had some rights, could buy their freedom, weren't supposed to be killed without cause–but still slavery.
Hiroshi stared at that passage for a long time before moving on.
West of Astoria was the Theocracy of Sanctus. Five million zealots, according to the text, though Hiroshi suspected that was Church propaganda making them sound more numerous than they were. Sanctus was ruled by a High Pontiff advised by a council of cardinals. They had paladins, inquisitors, strict religious laws, and if the book was to be believed, actual divine miracles that occurred with enough frequency to be documented.
The text described Sanctus as "the purest expression of the gods' will on earth."
Then there was the sixth region.
The Deadlands.