I spent the next few hours testing my body, gradually regaining my strength. My muscles still ached, but I could walk now—albeit a little unsteadily.
The more I moved, the more I confirmed something unsettling—my recovery speed wasn't normal.
Either they have some kind of healing magic, or something else is at play.
Whatever the reason, I wasn't about to complain. What mattered now was assessing my surroundings and preparing for the worst.
The church was small, its wooden pews creaking under the weight of time. Dust coated the corners, and faded religious symbols lined the walls—none of which I recognized.
A few nuns passed by, some offering polite smiles, others too busy with their tasks to notice me.
No guards. No locked doors.
That was good.
I reached the entrance and hesitated. Stepping outside meant exposure, but it also meant gathering information. If this world was anything like I feared—one mistake, one wrong gesture could get me killed.
Pushing open the heavy doors, I stepped into the village.
It was small—dirt roads, thatched roofs, and wooden houses forming a simple but functional settlement. A handful of villagers moved about, carrying baskets or tending to livestock.
Near the center, a blacksmith hammered away at a glowing piece of metal, while a group of children kicked a bundle of cloth tied together like a ball.
No one paid me much attention.
Good. That meant I wasn't considered a threat. Yet.
I took a slow breath, scanning my surroundings. If I needed to escape, there were a few possible routes—a narrow alley between buildings, a broken fence near the edge of the village, and what looked like a forest path leading beyond the fields.
Noted.
But leaving now would be a mistake. I didn't know the terrain, the dangers outside, or the laws that governed this place.
For all I knew, getting caught stealing food could end with my head on a pike.
I needed intel.
And Sister Elara was the perfect source.
I spotted her near a well, filling a wooden bucket. Approaching her casually, I made sure my steps were slow and unthreatening. She noticed me and smiled.
"Grimm! You're walking already? That's amazing!"
I returned her smile—small, controlled. "Still a bit sore, but I'll manage."
She set the bucket down. "That's wonderful. Did you need something?"
"Actually, yeah." I rubbed the back of my neck, feigning slight embarrassment.
"I, uh, don't know much about this place. I was hoping you could tell me a little… so I don't accidentally offend someone and get myself killed."
Elara giggled. "Oh, don't worry! People here are kind, they wouldn't—" She paused, then cleared her throat. "Well… most of them wouldn't."
That's concerning.
She motioned for me to sit on a nearby bench. "I'd be happy to help! What do you want to know?"
I sat beside her, keeping my posture relaxed but my mind sharp. "Everything. Start with the basics."
Elara nodded. "This village is called Redgrave. It's a small settlement under the rule of Baron Lysander. He collects taxes but mostly leaves us alone. The main dangers come from monsters in the wilds, not the nobility."
Baron. Feudal system confirmed.
I filed that information away. "And the church? How much influence does it have?"
She smiled. "Father Lucian is well-respected, but our church is small. The Holy Order controls most of the major cities. Out here, we just try to help people."
So there's a larger religious authority. That means the wrong words could get me branded a heretic. Noted.
I leaned forward slightly. "What about… customs? What's considered rude here?"
Elara hummed in thought. "Well, don't insult the nobility, obviously. And don't touch someone's head unless you're close to them—it's seen as demeaning. If someone offers you food, it's polite to take at least a bite, even if you don't like it."
Good to know. Would've been awkward refusing that soup outright.
She continued, "Also, don't speak ill of the gods in public. Even if someone isn't that religious, disrespecting them can bring bad luck—or worse."
Worse? That's vague. I don't like vague.
I nodded. "Got it. And… the ruins where I was found. Where exactly were they?"
Her expression darkened slightly. "Underground, near the village. It used to be an old temple, but it collapsed long ago. We avoid it—strange things happen there. People go missing."
I masked my interest. "Then why was I there?"
She hesitated. "I… don't know."
Liar.
She knew something—or at least suspected. But she didn't press the issue. That meant she either trusted Father Lucian to handle it… or she was afraid.
Either way, I needed to see those ruins for myself.
I leaned back, exhaling softly. "Thanks, Sister Elara. This helps a lot."
She smiled, but there was a flicker of worry in her eyes. "Just… be careful, okay?"
I nodded, standing up. "I will."
As I walked away, my mind raced.
A failed sacrifice. A mark on my back. Ruins that people feared.
And the fact that, despite everything, I was still alive.
I wasn't just lucky.
Back at the church, I sought out information. Books would be my next priority—religious texts, historical records, anything that could provide insight into this world's past and its people.
I found Father Lucian near the altar, sorting through a pile of worn-out scrolls. He glanced up as I approached.
"Feeling better already, Grimm?" he asked with an amused smile.
"Still a bit weak, but better than before," I admitted. "I was wondering… do you have any books I could read? I'd like to understand more about this world."
Father Lucian raised an eyebrow. "Not many outsiders ask for books first. Most just want food and shelter."
"I just don't want to be ignorant," I said with a shrug.
He nodded approvingly. "A good mindset. We have a few scriptures and some old records. You're free to read them, though some are in an older dialect."
That was fine. Even if the language was difficult, I could still gather useful context.
He led me to a small side room where dusty books and parchment sat on wooden shelves.
It wasn't much, but it was a start.
As I scanned the faded text, I found religious doctrine—stories of gods, saints, and divine punishment. But hidden between the lines were mentions of old kingdoms, wars, and disasters.
This confirms it. This world has a long history… but only fragments are recorded here.
Another book focused on practical knowledge—trade routes, crops, and mentions of rare spices.
Spices.
That caught my attention.
If this world had a functioning trade system, then food wasn't just for survival—it was a business. And if spices were a luxury, then good seasoning was an opportunity.
Setting the book down, I turned to Father Lucian.
"Father, can I ask something?"
He smiled. "Of course."
"What's the economic situation like here? What do people trade the most?"
He chuckled. "That's not a question I hear often. Redgrave is simple—we trade mostly wheat, wool, and iron ore from the nearby mines. Bartering is common since coin is scarce. Only larger towns deal in major commerce."
I nodded. "And spices? Are they common?"
His smile faded slightly. "Not here. Spices are expensive—only the wealthy use them. Salt is common, but things like pepper or cinnamon? Those come from distant lands and are worth their weight in silver."
Jackpot.
I stood up, stretching. "Thanks, Father. That helps a lot."
He gave me a curious look but didn't question further.