A Modern Mind in Medieval Times

I opened my eyes, only to find myself in an infinite expanse of nothingness.

Not the familiar dark of a moonless night, but an alien, oppressive void. Seeing no discernible end to the space, my pulse began rising quickly.

Or it would have, if I had any.

“Where the heck am I?” I murmured to myself, even though I had no mouth.

Before fear could swallow me whole, a powerful, booming voice spoke from everywhere. Not just outside, but from within my very bones.

“You are dead, child.”

I tried to respond, but no sound would come out.

“Usually only the soul reincarnates, devoid of memories, but providence has smiled upon you.”

I didn’t see how being dead made me lucky, but I wasn’t going to argue with Him.

“Do you truly long to play 4X strategy games in real life?”

He sounded amused, which filled me with dread.

“Then this might be like a dream come true for you, if you can survive. Farewell.”

“Where am I going?” I managed to scream.

“A place where you can do some good.”

“Do I get any powers?”

“The knowledge you possess alone will be akin to a ‘super’ power.”

So, a less developed world.

“What would be the point of sending me there if I die of cholera, or eating something I shouldn’t? I’m not asking for much!” I pleaded.

“I have already blessed your ‘new’ body with health. It will also be immune to all diseases and poisons. I am granting you a second chance at life, DO NOT WASTE IT!”

Before I could even respond, he made a mental shooing gesture, and I was gone.

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Aprilia didn’t remember when and how they managed to leave the Treacherous Bog, but it took another few days. More children and elderly died during that time and were buried in the cursed place that she never wanted to see again.

Whole families had been left as mounds of earth, marked with stones. Every morning, fewer faces stirred from the campfires.

While the hollow-eyed refugees rested in the forest at the edge of the Bog, the hunters went deep inside to scout the path ahead.

“They’re late,” the newly appointed Elder Erickson stated at noon.

Elder Weber was about to respond, when one of the hunters emerged from the thick foliage, shortly followed by others. The men looked tired, sweat stuck to their foreheads, and eyes downcast. Many were injured, being propped up by others. Then two men came carrying Lothar, covered in blood soaked bandages, on a makeshift stretcher.

“What happened?” Erickson asked them, not bothering to hide his rising panic.

“Brigands, Elder. One of our group came across them. It took the rest of us some time to reorganize against them, and… that cost five men their lives. More could have died, but the head hunter charged into them like a boar. We killed them all, but not before one of them managed to hit him in the head.”

“Shit!” Erickson raged in frustration. “You sure there aren’t any more of them?”

“We had already scoured most of the area when the attack happened, but we’ll go look again. As a single group this time.”

“Good. Rest for now. Have Matilda take a look at the wounded.”

“He will live. It’s a miracle he’s alive, with a wound to the head,” the short old woman told Erickson that night, as they stood next to Lothar’s unconscious body.

“Thank you,” he bowed to the poor woman, who had been working day and night trying to provide comfort to the sick and the dying.

The next day, the remaining hunters went on to scout the forest ahead and came back jubilant.

“You all look happy,” Elder Hyde stated.

“We reached the other end of the forest, and saw the valley beyond. It’s breathtaking, Elder, and no signs of anyone living there. We also found the brigands’ hideout. It’s full of loot. Booze, grain and meat,” the hunters’ acting leader stated.

Theo was a young excitable lad, but exceptionally good at tracking and hunting.

“A speck of good luck. Maybe it’s a sign of a better future.” Erickson forced a smile upon his face for their sake. “How much grain?”

“A few large sacks. Would have lasted them months.” But won’t last us more than days. He left that unsaid.

Stumbling and coughing, thousands of Cha trudged through the forest, the noise of their feet driving every inhabitant away. They had begun their journey with heavy hearts, but they might as well have been jovial compared to their current state. Sons, daughters, fathers and mothers had been lost to sickness. Out of the almost five thousand that had gathered outside the border of Nobart, only a little over three thousand survived. The Count’s men killed a little over three hundred, while disease, fatigue and malnutrition claimed fourteen hundred of them, almost a third of their numbers.

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“Ugh… Finally!” Aprilia groaned as she unceremoniously dropped her pack.

She followed it a moment later, collapsing onto the lush green grass. Her parents and the other refugees had done the same, exhaustion etched onto every face.

Their arduous journey had, at long last, come to an end. Tired, malnourished and sick of all the losses, many Cha were ready to give up, when the forest gave way to their destination, a pristine valley with no human settlement in sight. Pines crowded its edges, thick and green, and a river wound through it’s belly, surrounded by lush meadows. For the first time in weeks, the air smelled not of rot and ash, but grass and wildflowers. Someone sobbed nearby. She turned around to see a mother crying into her child’s hair, not with grief, but relief.

If she could help it, Aprilia would never set a single foot outside of the vast valley. Not that she was in a mood to admire its beauty. Her little brother’s death was fresh in her mind. She could still hear her mother’s wails as she clutched Vinnie’s lifeless body.

On top of the past, she worried about their future. Their already meager food supply was quickly dwindling. Yes, they were free from persecution, but it would be a cruel joke if they just died of starvation.

The Elders announced they had decided that the Cha would settle deeper, where the land was more fertile. Aprilia wanted to just sit down and lie on the lush grass for a week, everything else be damned. She looked around and found herself surrounded by thousands of people, their faces a storm of emotions.

Their relief and happiness at the conclusion of their journey was tempered by their grief; almost everyone had lost or left behind a loved one. There were thousands of Cha still in Nanon who hadn’t joined the exodus.

She prayed for their safety, and for the deliverance of the refugees.

On their way to the valley floor, she spied the wagon carrying Lord Jack and the Head hunter.

“They still haven’t woken up?” she asked Emma.

“Nope.”

Aprilia’s chest tightened upon looking at Lord Jack’s gaunt body, pale as bone. She wondered if he was truly the same man who had fought off four soldiers by himself. He was only a few years older than her, but looked ancient in his current state.

“How is he doing?” she asked Emma.

“Bad. It’s like his body is eating itself. I think he caught the same sickness that killed others.”

Now that they were away from the Bog’s noxious air, she had expected his health to improve, but it took a turn for the worse.

She was helping Old Matilda one day when Elder Erickson came to inquire about the well being of her charges.

Her heart broke when she saw the expression on Matilda’s face. She didn’t need to be a medical expert to know what it meant, as she had seen it far too many times in the last few days.

“I don’t think there’s much to be done now, Elder,” Matilda informed him in her raspy voice.

“Thank you for your efforts, Matilda,” he inclined his head to her. “Do we just… let nature take its course?”

“It won’t be that long. I’ll prepare a tea to make his passing peaceful,” she croaked.

“Let me stay by his side!” Aprilia whispered to her, who simply nodded.

That night, Jack’s breathing grew ragged and his body temperature began to plummet.

“This is it,” Old Matilda told Elder Erickson, while Aprilia wiped his brow with a wet rag and prayed for his recovery one last time.

Contrary to Matilda’s expectations, Lord Jack did not die that night, but Aprilia was done. She was emotionally wrung out and finally gave up hope of him ever recovering.

She was gathering firewood the evening of the next day when Emma came running.

“Aprilia! Did you hear? Lord Jack is recovering!”

“What?” was all she said, as she froze. Before her friend could reply, Aprilia turned and ran towards his tent as fast as she could.

Panting and covered in sweat, she planted her hands on her knees to steady herself, as Old Matilda scowled at her.

“Is he truly recovering?” she asked the crone.

“Yes. God has smiled upon him.”

While Matilda considered the turn in his health as just a rare occurrence, what followed was nothing short of miraculous. In a matter of days, his skin began regaining its color and his emaciated body, bones jutting out, began filling out. They couldn’t shove food in his mouth fast enough, as his body took it all and used it to rebuild itself. Then, his eyes opened. Focused and clear.

The camp stirred in murmurs. People went to their knees in prayer.

The word “messiah” was spoken in hushed tones.

“So?” Elder Erickson asked Matilda.

“It’s a miracle! I’ve never seen anyone recovering this fast before, and I’m indeed very old,” she confessed.

Miracle. That word was soon on other people’s tongues. A sign of better days ahead.

Aprilia didn’t know if she and the others truly believed that, but the Cha, weary and destitute, desperately needed hope. They might have escaped the clutches of the likes of Count Zock, but their trials and tribulations had not ended. They had nothing more than the clothes on their backs and some bags of grain to their names. Even if this valley was a land of plenty, it would not sustain three thousand people on foraging and hunting for long.

As she walked along the glistening river at dawn, Aprilia let herself believe that it was a genuine miracle; a sign that this was not the end of their story, but only the beginning.