Part 1
James sighed deeply, running a hand through his disheveled hair. Just days ago, he was an assistant portfolio manager on a six-month stress leave. Burned out from the relentless demands of the financial world, he'd sought solace in his passion for history. A quiet afternoon at the museum, marveling at ancient artifacts and imagining the lives of those who once held them—that was supposed to be his escape. Then, without warning, he'd been pulled into this medieval world, thrust into a reality far removed from balance sheets and market trends.
As the cave grew dimmer with the setting sun, his parched throat reminded him of yet another basic need. The voice interrupted his thoughts: "Would you like to purchase a bottle of purified water? Cost: $2.50."
Water—something so simple, yet so essential. "Yes, proceed," he thought, grateful for the assistance despite its inexplicable nature.
A clear bottle materialized beside him. He unscrewed the cap and drank deeply, the cool liquid soothing his dry throat. As he lowered the bottle, a thought struck him. "Wait a minute," he mused aloud. "Where exactly is this money coming from?"
The voice had been offering goods and services, all at specific prices. But in this world devoid of modern banking systems, how was any of this being transacted? Did he have an account here? Or was it somehow charging his account back home? If so, did that mean there was a connection between this world and his own? A possible way back?
His mind raced with questions. The implications were staggering. If the voice could access his funds, it suggested that these two worlds might be interconnected in ways he couldn't yet comprehend. "Does this mean there's a way back?" he pondered. The idea that some random entity could access his account without his knowledge was deeply unsettling. "Is someone—or something—monitoring my financial information from another world?" The notion was both intriguing and disconcerting. But as his exhaustion set in, his thoughts grew muddled. He realized he was too tired to think about it right now.
The voice chimed in again: "Would you like to purchase a portable LED lantern? Cost: $29.99."
Realizing that darkness was fast approaching, he set aside his perplexing thoughts for the moment. "Yes, proceed."
A sturdy lantern appeared at his side. He switched it on, and the cave was illuminated with a warm, steady glow. The soft light chased away the encroaching shadows, making the cavern feel almost cozy.
His stomach protested once more. "Would you like to purchase a hearty steak dinner with steamed vegetables and fresh juice? Cost: $35.99," the voice offered.
He couldn't help but chuckle at the surrealness of ordering dinner in a medieval cave. "Yes, proceed," he agreed, the allure of a good meal too strong to resist.
Instantly, the delectable aroma of grilled steak filled the air. A plate appeared before him: a perfectly cooked steak, crisp vegetables glistening with butter, and a glass of orange juice. As he took his first bite, the flavors burst forth, and he closed his eyes in appreciation. It was, without a doubt, one of the best meals he'd ever had.
As he ate, he kept a watchful eye on Bisera. She remained motionless, her chest rising and falling steadily. The treatments seemed to be working, but he knew they weren't out of danger yet.
His thoughts were interrupted by the voice: "Would you like to purchase a comprehensive security system with motion detectors and an alarm? Cost: $499.99."
James glanced toward the cave entrance. Night had fallen, and the darkness outside was impenetrable. The possibility of threats lurking beyond was all too real. "Yes, proceed," he replied.
A sophisticated security system appeared beside him. Following the voice's detailed instructions, he set up motion sensors and small surveillance cameras around the cave's perimeter. The control unit displayed a live feed, and he felt a semblance of safety knowing they'd have an early warning of any approaching danger.
"Would you like to purchase components for a temporary electric fence to further secure the cave entrance? Cost: $699.99," the voice offered.
He nodded. "Yes, proceed."
Heavy-duty posts, insulated wires, and a portable power unit materialized. The voice guided him through the setup: "Position the posts in a semi-circle around the cave entrance. Ensure the wires are elevated and taut. Connect them to the power unit and activate."
As he worked, the absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on him. Setting up an electric fence in a medieval world was the stuff of fantasy—or insanity. But practicality overrode any lingering disbelief. Once the fence was activated, a gentle hum indicated it was live.
Sweating and slightly winded from the effort, James felt nature's call. He looked over at Bisera, still resting peacefully, and decided to step outside. Carefully navigating past the electric fence, he ventured a short distance into the woods.
As he relieved himself behind a tree, he gazed up at the night sky. The stars were breathtaking—brighter and more numerous than he'd ever seen back home. Without the haze of city lights, the Milky Way stretched across the sky in a dazzling display. "At least some things are better here," he whispered.
On his way back, the voice made another offer: "Would you like to purchase an insect repellent device to keep the area free of pests? Cost: $19.99."
"Yes, proceed," he agreed, not eager to deal with bugs during the night.
A compact device appeared, emitting a soft hum. Almost immediately, the buzzing of insects diminished.
Re-entering the cave, he felt a chill. The temperature had dropped noticeably. The voice spoke once more: "Would you like to purchase a thick woolen blanket for added warmth? Cost: $49.99."
He rubbed his arms. "Yes, proceed."
A plush blanket materialized. He wrapped it around himself, the warmth seeping into his tired muscles. Settling down beside Bisera, he adjusted the lantern's brightness to a soft glow.
"Do not set up a fire. It will draw unwanted attention," the voice cautioned.
"Understood," he thought, grateful for the reminder.
As he sipped water from the bottle, his mind drifted back to the perplexing issue of the charges. If his account was indeed being accessed, the idea that some random entity could access his account without his knowledge was deeply unsettling. It suggested a level of surveillance and connection between the two worlds that he couldn't yet comprehend. "If this connection exists, maybe there's a way to use it to send a message home or even find a path back," he pondered. But as fatigue began to set in, his thoughts grew muddled. He realized he was too tired to think about it right now.
But as he pondered these possibilities, a wave of exhaustion washed over him. His eyelids grew heavy, and his thoughts became muddled. "Too tired to figure this out now," he conceded.
He glanced at Bisera one last time. "You're going to be okay," he whispered. "Please don't kill me when you wake up."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. The day's events had been nothing short of extraordinary, but for now, all he could do was rest.
Laying back, he allowed the gentle hum of the electric fence and the soft glow of the lantern to lull him. The cave was quiet, the outside world kept at bay—for the moment.
"Tomorrow," he thought. "I'll figure it all out tomorrow."
With that, he drifted into a deep sleep, the weight of the day finally giving way to much-needed rest.
Part 2
Bisera stirred, her senses sluggish as the soft light of dawn filtered into the cave. Her eyelids fluttered; the warmth of the blanket wrapped around her provided a comforting barrier against the chill of the early morning. For a moment, she lay still, her mind foggy and her body weighed down by exhaustion. The last thing she remembered was the searing pain of her wound and the relentless fever that had threatened her life.
But now… she felt different. The throbbing ache in her side had dulled to a manageable discomfort, and the fever had dissipated. A sense of relief settled over her, but then something pricked at the edges of her awareness—an unfamiliar presence nearby.
Her eyes snapped open, and there he was—James, crouched beside her, his face furrowed in concentration as he tended to her side. Panic surged through her at the sight of this stranger, her instincts honed by countless battles urging her to remain vigilant. Without hesitation, she pushed him away with all the strength her weakened body could muster.
James yelped as he tumbled backward, sprawling across the cave floor. He blinked up at her in surprise, his eyes wide and filled with confusion. "Whoa! Hey—what the hell?"
Ignoring his words, Bisera struggled to sit up, her movements deliberate despite her pain. Something tugged at her arm, drawing her attention downward—a thin tube attached to her arm, connected to a small bag hanging beside her. Her heart pounded in her chest as alarm surged through her. What kind of sorcery was this?
"What is this?" she demanded, her voice sharp and authoritative, still tinged with panic. She reached for the tube, but before she could pull it free, James scrambled to his feet, his hands raised in a calming gesture.
"Wait! It's an IV. It's giving you fluids. You were badly hurt, and it's helping you recover." His words came out swiftly, his tone gentle and earnest, attempting to soothe her fears.
Bisera's hand paused mid-motion as she processed his explanation. Fluids? IV? The terms were foreign to her, rooted in a world she had never known. Yet, as she looked into his eyes, the fog in her mind began to lift. She realized that her condition had indeed improved. The burning pain in her side had dulled, and her body no longer felt as though it were ablaze.
Memories began to rush back—Alexander, the relentless enemy, the desperate battle, her wounded side. Her eyes narrowed once more, suspicion flaring as she fixed James with a hard stare.
"And what do you want in return for saving me?" she demanded, her voice icy with distrust. "To deliver me to Alexander for a reward? I know the kind of man you are—a moneylender. All you care about is profit."
James's mouth fell open, stunned by her accusation. "What? Deliver you? No, no, I—I'm not a moneylender! I don't even know who Alexander is!" His hands remained raised, his expression a mix of exasperation and confusion. "I was trying to help you, Bisera. I wasn't trying to harm you."
She glared at him, still not fully convinced. The morning light illuminated the cave, casting long shadows that hinted at the passage of a long, restless night. The warmth of the blanket around her and the bandages on her side were clear signs that James had been tending to her wounds through the night. If he had intended harm, he could have done so without warning.
The realization hit her hard. Her suspicion, though instinctive, was beginning to feel misplaced. She glanced at the bandages again, then at the IV still attached to her arm. The tension in her body slowly began to ease as she recognized the genuine care in his actions.
James, sensing the shift in her demeanor, cautiously stepped forward. "Here, let me take that out for you." He gestured to the IV. "It's just helping with your recovery, but you don't need it anymore."
Bisera nodded slowly, her gaze still sharp but no longer hostile. She allowed him to approach, though her muscles remained tense, ready to defend herself if necessary. James moved carefully, his hands steady as he removed the IV from her arm. The sensation was strange to her—cold and clinical—but there was no pain.
As James worked, Bisera studied him in silence. His face was drawn with exhaustion, dark circles under his eyes from the sleepless night. He hadn't killed her. He hadn't betrayed her. Instead, he had tended to her wounds, kept her alive, and protected her through the night.
He saved me.
A wave of guilt washed over her, mingling with an unfamiliar warmth in her chest. She had been so quick to accuse him, to assume the worst. Her expression softened as she watched him, realizing just how wrong she had been.
When James finished removing the IV, he sat back, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "There," he said, glancing at her cautiously. "All done. You should be feeling much better now."
Bisera touched her arm where the IV had been, her fingers tracing the spot with curiosity. Then her hand moved to her side, brushing against the bandages wrapped around her wound. The bandaging was tight, neat, and secure. She could tell he had been thorough, even with the smaller grazes on her arms and legs. Every wound had been cared for with precision.
She looked at him, a strange mixture of gratitude and guilt bubbling up inside her. "You… did this," she said softly, her voice no longer carrying the edge of accusation. "You treated my wounds. Even the small ones."
James nodded, still looking slightly on edge. "Yeah. You were in pretty bad shape. I did what I could."
For the first time, Bisera allowed herself a small, genuine smile. "Thank you," she said quietly, her voice filled with sincerity.
James let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "You're welcome," he replied, his tone softening. He couldn't help but feel relieved that the tension between them was finally easing. "I'm just glad you're okay."
Bisera's hand continued to brush against the bandages, her touch lingering as she absorbed the weight of what he had done for her. And then, all at once, she became acutely aware of something else.
Her armor.
Her eyes widened as she realized she was barely clothed beneath the blanket. Her warrior's instinct kicked in, and her face flushed with embarrassment. She glanced down at herself, then quickly pulled the blanket tighter around her body.
"Where… is my armor?" she asked, her voice hesitant, though she tried to keep it steady.
James's face reddened slightly. "I had to take it off to treat the wound," he explained, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "You were… well, you were dying, and I couldn't get to the wound with all the armor on, so I—uh—had to… you know…"
Bisera's eyes narrowed, though the suspicion in them had faded. She wasn't angry, just… embarrassed. She had never been in such a vulnerable position before—without her armor, without her weapons. But she knew, deep down, that he had done it to save her life.
"Did you remove… everything?" she asked cautiously, her face flushed.
James quickly shook his head, his cheeks reddening further. "No! I mean… I only removed what I had to. Part of your tunic, the armor on top. I left the rest intact. I swear."
For a moment, Bisera stared at him, studying his face. He was awkward, nervous, but there was no deceit in his eyes. He wasn't like the men she had known before—warriors and mercenaries, eager to exploit weakness. He had been nothing but honorable. The warmth in her chest deepened, and the guilt that had been simmering earlier now bloomed into full-blown remorse.
She looked down at her hands, her voice softening. "I misjudged you," she admitted, her tone low. "I was wrong to accuse you." She hesitated, then added, "I thought… I thought you would be like the other moneylenders. They would have delivered me to Alexander for a reward without a second thought. But you… you're not like them."
James blinked, caught off guard by her sudden shift in tone. "I mean… I get it," he said, trying to be reassuring. "You woke up in a cave with a stranger hovering over you. I'd freak out too."
Bisera chuckled softly, the sound surprising even herself. "I suppose it's not the usual way a warrior wakes up after battle."
James laughed, and the tension between them finally broke. The air in the cave seemed lighter, and though Bisera was still wrapped tightly in the blanket, she felt a strange sense of comfort in his presence.
For a moment, they sat in silence, the morning light filtering through the cave entrance. Bisera's fingers traced the edge of the blanket, her mind turning over the events of the night. She had been ready to accuse him, to fight him, but now… now she felt something entirely different. Gratitude. Trust.
"I owe you a debt," she said quietly, her eyes meeting his. "Not just for saving my life, but for your honor. For not taking advantage of my situation."
James waved it off, trying to hide his embarrassment. "You don't owe me anything, Bisera. I did what anyone would have done."
Bisera shook her head. "No. Not anyone. Only someone with honor."
Their eyes met, and for the first time, there was no tension, no suspicion—just understanding. Bisera, the fierce and devout warrior, had let her guard down. And James, the unlikely hero, had proven his worth.