"I called you here to understand a few things, Mr. Rafael. Now that we are working together, I think it's time you trust me a little more, just as I've trusted you," Cenric began, his tone calm but firm.
Rafael, sensing the shift in mood, responded cautiously, "What do you mean?"
"We're at the end of summer. Normally, everything would be as it always is—we'd start the harvest, give 65% of the grain to Baron Floutt, and the people would go about their usual tasks. But this year, things are different. Do you know why?"
Cenric looked intently at Rafael, noticing how his clothes were still immaculate, cleaner than freshly laundered cloth, even after two days of use.
What is he getting at? Rafael wondered, before offering his best guess. "Because of the war?"
"Yes, because of the war. Hundreds, maybe thousands of men are fighting for their lands and families. A bloodbath. And in the end, even the victor loses," Cenric said, pausing for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air.
I saw some medieval battle movies last year, and it was... different... kinda awesome, actually, Rafael thought fleetingly.
Cenric continued, "Even with all that, life here would have gone on. But then, you appeared, along with that thing in the forest. A strange man with strange clothes, claiming to remember nothing."
"Do you know what anyone else in my position would have done?" Cenric asked, his gaze piercing.
"No," Rafael answered, feeling a growing sense of unease.
"They would have imprisoned and tortured you until you told them everything. But instead, I welcomed you, gave you a place to stay, and even shared secrets about the nobility. And what have you given in return?"
What's happening? I thought we were okay after our talk yesterday. Rafael chose to remain silent, ready to flee if things took a turn for the worse.
"Paper. I'm genuinely grateful for the papermaking process you shared with us, but it's not enough. I know you lied about your amnesia. You said you'd help us—the right side in this war—but I can't fully trust you. Not yet."
"For that to happen, you need to tell me everything. If you do, I promise we'll protect you and trust you."
Cenric's words hung in the air as he awaited Rafael's response. Damn! If I don't answer him, he's definitely going to kill me... Rafael's mind raced. He made a decision. Sweat beaded on his forehead, both from the sudden confrontation and the heat of the sun.
"Fine. You're right, I didn't lose my memory. I lied to protect myself," Rafael admitted, his voice steady despite his nerves.
I knew it! What else has he lied about? Cenric's suspicion was confirmed. "Protect yourself from what?"
"Like you said, I didn't know what you would do to me. I lied to avoid being tortured."
"Understandable, but it only worked because it was me. Now, answer my question: who are you, and where are you from?" Cenric demanded, now standing directly in front of Rafael.
Rafael sighed loudly, resigning himself to the truth. "It's complicated. Just... just listen, alright? Also, you can't tell anyone about what I'm going to say. Deal?"
Cenric, though confused, agreed, eager to finally understand if Rafael was trustworthy. "Deal."
I can't believe I'm about to say this. Oh, God, please be open-minded. Rafael's fear surged—if Cenric thought he was crazy or lying, running for his life would be his only option.
"I am from the future," he whispered, almost too quietly to hear.
"..." Cenric's eyes remained fixed on him. "What do you mean by that?"
"The future. Do you know what the word 'future' means?"
"Yes, of course, I do! But what you're saying doesn't make sense. I was hoping you'd finally tell the truth, but it seems you only know how to lie," Cenric said, his hand moving to his waist where a dagger was sheathed.
"Wait! Wait! Let me explain! I can prove it!"
"Prove it? Hahaha... go ahead then, prove it if you can." Cenric's hand tightened around the dagger. From behind a nearby house, a guard with a short sword emerged and approached Rafael, stopping to await Cenric's command.
"The machine! The thing in the forest is a machine that can travel through time! And—and the paper, it's common in my time, everyone knows how to make it. There's more! I know things that no one has even invented yet!"
Rafael's hands were raised defensively, the book clutched in his left hand. Oh shit! What now? Where can I run?
"A machine? So you know what that is—you've been lying from the start!" Cenric was on the verge of ordering the guard, Amis, to attack.
"I can win the war!" Rafael shouted desperately. All three of them froze. "What did you say? How can you win?" Cenric asked, his interest piqued.
"I know of a weapon that can kill anything and even destroy a castle."
The workers harvesting the crops started to notice the commotion. "What's happening?" one asked. "I don't know," another replied. "I knew that man wasn't good," a third muttered as they exchanged worried glances.
Back with the trio, the guard kept his eyes on Rafael, waiting for the order to attack. Cenric remained silent, contemplating whether this weapon could be real or just another of Rafael's lies. "What is this weapon? If you can prove that you have it, I'll pardon your lies, and we'll return to being allies."
"I don't have it—but I know how to make it!" Rafael added quickly, seeing the displeased look on Cenric's face. "Do you know what a trebuchet is?" He hesitated but decided to keep the knowledge of gunpowder to himself, opting for something less explosive.
"A treb-what?" Cenric had never heard the word before.
"A trebuchet. It's a weapon made from wood that can hurl rocks hundreds of meters away."
What's a meter? Cenric and Amis both wondered, their expressions puzzled.