Chapter 1 : Orbis Alius

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Water drizzled from the metal cans that Lansius carried with the help of a wooden pole. As he passed, the soil around the green vegetable patches grew darker. A strong earthy scent rose as the ground received more moisture.

Despite having done this dozens of times, he couldn't help but think that he could've done it faster if he had sneakers or boots. Alas, all he got was a sad-looking medieval leather shoe with hardened soles.

"Lans, are your legs getting wobbly already?" Marc teased from the well.

Lansius chuckled and returned to the well for a refill, but suddenly lunged his wooden pole at Marc.

"Hah!" Marc parried with his pitchfork and launched a counter sweep.

Lansius blocked it, and the two engaged in a friendly spar, with Marc easily blocking and dodging Lansius' slow swings, taunting him all the while.

After a few more attempts, Lansius finally threw his arms up. "No more… hard to breathe."

Marc didn't even break a sweat; Lansius' attacks only managed to mess up his disheveled short brown hair. Having been trained to wield a polearm, a simple pitchfork posed no challenge for him. "Seems like the master soldier wannabe has poor stamina," he taunted with a smirk.

"Quiet, you," Lansius chuckled breathlessly.

Marc picked up the wooden pole, refilled the metal cans, and continued to water their family plot. Slowly but surely, he covered all their spring vegetables. Their livelihood depended on it.

Unlike the previous year, Lansius could now help with the work. However, he could only do so much before becoming sluggish and exhausted. Nonetheless, he found satisfaction in knowing that he wasn't a freeloader anymore.

"Marc, is there - no other work?" he asked in broken language as they cleaned up.

Marc grinned. "Easier work for you, bro?"

Lansius could only nod. He had yet to master the language well enough to argue.

"Still won't do the wool shop?"

Oof, anything but that...

Lansius shook his head.

Marc snickered. "You can't cook, can't do carpentry, and can't write. So either the wool shop or the tannery."

The thought of working in the tannery made Lansius' stomach churn. Tanneries used urine and manure to treat leather, and even blood, brains, and other animal waste in their process.

"Well, at least you're a freeman," Marc said to cheer him up.

"Freeman?" Lansius learned a new word and sort of guessed its meaning.

"Yeah, unlike us, you can go wherever you want and find work elsewhere."

Lansius furrowed his brows. "You - not free?"

"Well, we could be if we paid our debts. The land, the house, and the tools are provided by the Lord. But we needed money to fix things, buy clothes, or build new fences," Marc explained.

Lansius grew worried. This was the first time he'd heard about this problem.

"No worries. It's only a small sum," Marc reassured him. "But at this rate..."

Lansius followed Marc's gaze and understood the situation. They were planting on not even a quarter of the allotted land. Moreover, the yield was small, and vegetables held little value.

"Oi, don't give me that look," Marc said. "It's true that we're in debt, but we're not planning to move, so it's fine."

"You like it here?" Lansius asked, looking at the vast green meadows.

"Yep, father brought us here when we were little. It's far from the capital, but much safer from war," Marc said, recalling a fond memory of his late father.

The wind blew softly, causing their loose, off-white tunics to flutter, offering a soothing sensation. As spring neared its end, the breeze carried a distinctive fragrance and a touch of aridity.

"Marc! Lans!" a little girl called from outside the field.

"Tanya, why are you here?" Marc, the girl's brother, asked.

Tanya grinned from ear to ear and announced, "Mother bought meat from the market."

"Whoops, gotta go." Marc quickly gathered his tools and sprinted home.

"Aiyo," Lansius protested. He lacked the stamina to chase after Marc, so he took his time cleaning up. His stomach growled at the thought of the missed opportunity. Meat was a rare treat. When Mother Arryn bought some, it was usually just bones for broth, with very little actual meat.

By the time Lansius finished, the sun had turned completely orange, sitting low on the horizon. As he walked home, he spotted Tanya waiting behind the wooden fence. Her golden hair shone brightly against the backdrop of the sunset. She was the only blonde in the village, as the rest, including her brother and mother, had brown hair.

"Tanya, why didn't you go with Marc?" he asked, trying to recall his vocabulary.

"I'd rather walk home with you," she replied with a grin, revealing her missing tooth.

Lansius couldn't help but chuckle. He genuinely enjoyed Tanya's company. Of the three people he knew in this world, she was the closest to him, the one who had kept him sane during the lowest point of his life.

"Hey, let's talk about something. Hmm, have you got your memory back?" she suddenly asked.

"Eh, umm... no, I remember some things, but not much."

"Aww, I really want to hear what your home and village look like." Like other kids, Tanya was curious about the world outside Bellandia.

"Maybe after I learn to speak more."

"You're doing well. Last year, you only talked with hand signals," she said, smiling sweetly.

Unable to resist her charm any longer, Lansius stopped, knelt down, and gestured for her to climb onto his back for a piggyback ride.

"Yay!" She hopped on and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"Uff, you - heavier," he muttered.

Tanya laughed, pressing her knees as if riding a horse. In reality, she was underweight like many other children in the village.

Lansius obeyed and started jogging. He adored the little girl.

When Lansius found himself in this unknown place the previous year, he was severely ill and nearly died. No one rushed him to a hospital or administered first aid. Not knowing the language or his location, he could only assume he had had an accident in a rural part of the world.

After recovering, he realized something unbelievable had occurred. No matter where he looked, there were no light bulbs in Bellandia—no wall clocks or even tissues. The place that resembled the medieval era was indeed from the Middle Ages.

Even worse, his entire past identity had become hazy. He could recall movie plots and books, even The Art of War he had been studying for some reason, and knew he had graduated and worked. But not a single personal name came to mind. No family faces, no memory of his hometown, or even his own name.

The only name that remained was a nickname he had used in realistic-themed online games: Lansius. He had used that name to lead countless players in online battles and felt comfortable being called by it, but he never expected to use the name in reality.

For someone raised in the modern age, the prospect of living in a medieval era seemed bleak, filled with wars, plagues, and backbreaking labor. Lansius became depressed, barely eating, and suffering from a series of fevers. There was little hope for him if not for Tanya.

The little girl cared for him and kept him engaged with her curiosity. Gradually, her words became familiar, and he began to open up, trusting her to keep him moving forward.