There are people who are pathetic. There are people who are selfless. There are people who are selflessly pathetic. The last always have the worst kinds of lives. Clearly, though, I was neither of the latter, there is no one in this world that I know to be more pathetic than me. That is why, when I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar wall of an unfamiliar room, laying in an unfamiliar bed, I decided I was fine with dying as long as it came in one moment.
Clearly, though, that was not to be. All I could discern from my situation right now was that I was not in the bed I had fallen asleep in, and knowing that I had no history of sleep walking, the notion that I could have moved here in my sleep didn't seem very probable. So that would leave me with only one conclusion, someone had somehow moved me here, and since the surroundings didn't look very much like my flat, it meant I was not in my flat. I had been kidnapped.
But why would anyone, I thought, looking up at the ceiling of the barn. Indeed, at this point it was certain I was sleeping in a barn. I was by no means a genius, but anyone sane enough, if he looked at his surroundings and saw the ground of their lodgings littered with dried grass, smelled the air fragrant with the aroma of horse shit, and heard the ear curdling shrieks of crows, would be able to deduce they were in a barn. The only good thing was that I was actually laying on a blanket which covered the grass, so at least it was not pricking my arse.
But that kind of silver lining doesn't really help you escape from the situation for too long when you know that you are in a completely different locality, if not city, than yours, and you were moved there while asleep, without your consent. Even worse, when you're sleeping only 10 yards away from the stables, where you can see horses and their arses shitting and pissing right in front of you.
Ugh. This is certainly not favourable, not in any terms, and clearly not good. Well, at least I was not tied to a pole or something, and seemed like my limbs were free and connected as well. Then, the last thing I consciously check was my balls and my jet spray. Mhm. Seems unharmed enough. Though they certainly do seem a bit different. Clearly not the same size.
"Ah!" I realised with a startle as I looked at my limbs, my clothes and my body. They seemed smaller than I was used to. I quickly bent down to look at my knees. How curios, the burn scars I've had there since I was 6 years old seemed to have also disappeared. And my legs seemed pretty straight for the most part. No strange apparent angle to my knees, however little it may have been, caused by the overweight state of my body during the early developmental years of my life.
Mhm.
I seemed fine enough. Better physically. No mental stress except that I was fucking kidnapped, of course. But my captivators didn't seem very motivated to keep an eye on me. I slowly walked out of the barn, cautious not to make much noise, and looked around at my surroundings. It looked pretty hilly. Some icy mountains in the distance too. Now that was weird. The closest mountains to my city are more than 500 kilometres away, could I really not have awakened while travelling for this long? What, was I kidnapped on a private jet? This was weird.
At least the air seemed pretty nice and clean, and cool of course, as a gust of wind passed between me and the stables for a moment, relieving me from the heavenly aroma of horse shit.
I finally decided to walk past the stables and look around more, as I waited for my captivators to find me, and this time lock me in for good. Well, this certainly looked like a farm, a big, a really big farm. In some distance, there was also a homestead. Pretty big, and beautiful it looked, with minimal decorations. Well… This certainly didn't look my country, nor did the clothes of the man running towards me looked very familiar.
He was a thin, lanky man, running towards me in small steps. His clothes looked just as queer as the rest of this place, and just as queer as his slightly girlish gait. Now, no debate, he was a man, his stubble, and brown moustache made that certain, as he was close enough to talk to me now, so I could see well. In fact, this was another surprise, my eyesight has improved, weird, did my kidnappers also give me a Lasik surgery while I was asleep? Very kind kidnappers I seemed to have.
The man, in a grey tunic, and brown, thick pants, was now walking since he had seen me stop, and he did seem pretty tired. Ah, now that I looked at it, my light brown clothes, or rags, that sounded more accurate, looked pretty similar to his. Design wise, that is, there was significance different between our sizes and colours.
This queer fashion, such stark difference in my surroundings, and the apparent reduction in dimensions of my 5 limbs had significantly pushed the probability of another idea about my kidnapping in my head. Normally, I would not dare believe such a thing, but I was kidnapped and brought to mountains over hundreds of kilometres while I was asleep, that kind of thing doesn't happen very often, if it even does. So, I was mayhaps more inclined to believe in a supernatural notion than I would usually be.
Well, my wondering did stop temporarily when that man now stood in front of me, and started speaking. Good thing, at least he was speaking English, lest I was half expecting him to start spouting some mountain language I had never heard before. Now, English I could deal with, the good ol' English, the taste of most normies. But oh well, that's just how the world worked.
Well, he bowed before he started speaking.
"Oh, Young Lord Gwythyr, thank the gods you are awake."
Is he talking to me? Me, a Young Mast– Lord, I mean? Weird, I don't think I was born nobility in my life, nor was I in the society that referred to people with such honorifics any more. Was this man my captivator? Was he trolling me? And I wonder what we were doing in medieval cosplay. It's all such a mess. And while these thoughts were running through my head, I was looking at that man with a queer look in my eyes. Like I was looking at a weirdly shaped piece of horse shit.
Ah yes, horse shit. As there was some wind, some gusts would still occasionally bring me the aroma of horse shit. It seemed more fresh this time. Smells like fresh shit. Why is everyone trolling me?
Sometimes my wisdom, it's almost frightening. Well, my thoughts would never stop, and seems like neither would this man.
"Lord Gwyndolyn ordered me to bring you back at once, my lord. The packing for your departure had been done, and your horse is ready."
Ah, looked like my super improbable guess was right, and I did indeed transmigrate. Or maybe this man was an excellent actor, and this was a stage set to troll me. Where are the cameras, I wonder? Oh, he seemed to be expecting a response. What should I say?
"Oh…"
Well, that's some brevity. I could have had no more of a meaningless response. A slight heat rose up my cheeks as I lampooned at myself in my head. Embarrassing.
But it seemed to have struck the man with some kind of enlightenment.
"Ah, yes, my lord. Your last night's tantrum, I mean, your requests were still denied by Lord Gwyndolyn. I feel your sorrows my Lord, you would not want to be away from your family, but, no one can really change his mind when Lord Gwyndolyn has made a decision. And I surely believe you would do well under Lord Brendan Callan of Caester, your mother's sire. Now, we should leave at once, Lord Gwyndolyn still waits to bid you farewell."
Alright, the more this man talked, the less it felt like a joke. So, I really did transmigrate? Well, let us assume that I did. Then, what should I do? Oh, right, seemed like my name was Gwyther. Pretty old-fashioned if you were to ask me, but I like it all the same.
But, with that matter aside, we must ask what should we do if we really have transmigrated. In my personal experience, I've never transmigrated before, so that is certainly not helpful. Ah, but yeah, there is a certain man I know of who certainly did transmigrate, and who certainly did pride himself on his acting. Indeed, right, the acting method. I should act. Of course, in hindsight that's such a simple answer, but your brains stop sometimes.
Ahh, looks like this man, a servant, as I am suspecting for now, is getting impatient while waiting for an answer. Huh, what can I even say.
"My lord?"
I should say something. Cough, I clear my throat, preparing myself to talk. But, what should I say? I don't even know him. And my social skills are relatively abysmal, so there's not much I can say in this situation. Well, I can certainly shake my head.
I nod to him in response.
"A-after y-you."
Wow, that came out smooth. I should try again.
"I'd like to walk slow, and savour the sight of my home a bit more."
Yeah, now that is better. Hopefully I can make Klein proud someday. Would I get a sugar mummy like an Amanises too, though? Well, a man can certainly hope, because it doesn't seem like I have anything even close to Sefirah.
God knows what's in the future at this point. Well, gods, to be more accurate in accordance with this world, as I will learn later.