Chapter1 A Start Beyond Comprehension
The pixelated knight on Jack's screen raised a digital sword, about to deliver the final blow to the fire-breathing dragon.
Jack mashed the buttons on his controller, a triumphant grin plastered across his face.
Suddenly, a blinding flash of light erupted from the screen, engulfing his room.
He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable explosion of his cheap, second-hand TV.
Instead, a chill wind whipped across his face.
He opened his eyes to find himself standing not in his messy apartment, but in the grand hall of a medieval castle.
He was still wearing his Cookie Monster pajamas, now conspicuously out of place amidst the tapestry-draped walls and flickering torchlight.
"What in the actual…?
" Jack muttered, glancing down at his fuzzy blue pajama pants.
"Did I just get isekai'd?"
Around him, nobles in elaborate velvet gowns and glittering jewels stared, their expressions ranging from bewildered amusement to outright disdain.
A few stifled giggles rippled through the crowd.
Jack, never one to shy away from the spotlight, even an unwanted one, spread his arms wide, striking a dramatic pose.
"Greetings, fair maidens and noble lords!
" he proclaimed in his best mock-Shakespearean voice.
"Fear not, for I come bearing tidings of… uh… stuff!
"
The effect was somewhat diminished by the image of a grinning Cookie Monster emblazoned across his chest.
He felt a blush creep up his neck.
This was so much worse than that time he accidentally wore his sister's unicorn onesie to school.
Two guards, looking like extras from a Monty Python sketch, approached him cautiously.
They exchanged a nervous glance before grabbing him by the arms.
"Easy there, fellas," Jack protested, "haven't you heard of personal space?
Is this how you treat a VIP?
"
He was hauled before a stern-looking man with a neatly trimmed beard and an air of supreme authority.
This, Jack surmised, must be the Big Cheese.
"Lord Blackwood," one of the guards announced, "this… individual… appeared in the middle of the Great Hall.
"
Lord Blackwood raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
"Appeared?
Explain yourself.
"
Jack cleared his throat.
"Well, you see, it's a long story.
It involves quantum physics, temporal anomalies, and a really laggy internet connection…" He decided to skip the part about the fire-breathing dragon.
Lord Blackwood let out a booming laugh that echoed through the hall.
The other nobles joined in, their laughter laced with mockery.
"Quantum physics?
You're a charlatan!
Guards, throw this imbecile in the dungeon!
"
Jack bristled.
"Hey!
I can be useful!
I have knowledge that could, like, totally revolutionize your little kingdom here!
Think indoor plumbing, crop rotation, maybe even… the internet?
" He trailed off weakly, realizing how insane he sounded.
The laughter intensified.
Jack felt a surge of frustration.
He'd show them.
He'd show them all.
Later, escaping the stifling atmosphere of the castle, Jack found himself wandering through the bustling village market.
The air was thick with the smells of woodsmoke and unwashed bodies.
He wrinkled his nose, missing the sterile scent of his air freshener.
The stalls, laden with meager offerings of vegetables and dried meats, painted a grim picture.
The villagers' faces were etched with worry and hunger.
He struck up a conversation with a farmer, a weathered man named John Smith, who looked like he hadn't had a decent meal in weeks.
"What's with the long faces, everyone?
" Jack asked.
John sighed.
"Bad harvest, milord.
Lord Blackwood raised the taxes again, leaving us with barely enough to survive.
"
Jack's mind whirred.
This was his chance.
He remembered the countless documentaries he'd binged on modern farming techniques.
He could help these people.
He could prove to Lord Blackwood that he wasn't just some crazy guy in pajamas.
Back at the castle, Jack sought an audience with Lord Blackwood.
He pitched his idea – a new farming system that could drastically improve crop yields.
Blackwood, predictably, was skeptical, dismissing Jack's claims as the ramblings of a madman.
But Isabella, a kind-hearted and surprisingly open-minded noblewoman, saw a glimmer of hope in Jack's words.
She convinced Blackwood to give Jack a small plot of land to prove his theories.
"Very well," Blackwood conceded, a condescending smirk playing on his lips.
"But if you fail, you'll be cleaning the castle latrines for the rest of your… peculiar… existence.
"
Jack grinned.
"Deal.
Prepare to be amazed, my lord.
" He turned and strode out of the hall, a sudden surge of confidence filling him.
This was his moment.
He had a chance to make a real difference, to prove himself, and maybe, just maybe, to escape the judgmental stares directed at his Cookie Monster pajamas.
He reached the allocated plot of land, the setting sun casting long shadows across the uneven ground.
He surveyed the area, his mind already visualizing rows of thriving crops.
He reached down, picked up a clod of dirt, and crumbled it in his hand…
Jack swore he'd just been reaching for another bag of chips while binging "Medieval Europe: A Documentary." One minute, cheesy goodness was within his grasp, the next, he was face down in what smelled suspiciously like horse manure.
He pushed himself up, spitting out a stray piece of hay.
Gone was his comfy couch, replaced by cobblestones and a towering stone edifice that screamed "castle.
"
"Right," Jack muttered, dusting off his jeans.
"Definitely not Kansas anymore." Or his apartment, for that matter.
He stumbled into what appeared to be a bustling courtyard.
People in clothes that looked suspiciously like Renaissance Faire rejects hurried past, giving him wide berths.
He caught snippets of conversation, but it wasn't English.
It sounded… vaguely French?
His high school French consisted mostly of knowing how to order a croissant, which he doubted would be helpful in this situation.
Suddenly, a booming voice cut through the courtyard chatter.
"You there! Explain yourself!"
Jack turned to face a portly man with a handlebar mustache that could rival a walrus.
Decked out in velvet and sporting a rather impressive sword, he looked like he'd stepped straight out of central casting for "Angry Medieval Lord." This had to be Lord Blackwood, mentioned in the documentary as a notoriously difficult character.
"Uh, bonjour?
" Jack offered weakly, mentally kicking himself for not paying more attention in French class.
Lord Blackwood's mustache twitched.
"Bonjour? You dare address me, Lord Blackwood, with such… familiarity? Speak plainly, vagabond! Who are you and what are you doing in my castle?"
Jack's mind raced.
He could try to explain time travel, but somehow, he doubted Lord Walrus-Mustache would buy it.
"I… I'm a traveler," he stammered. "A… merchant.
Yes!
A merchant from… uh… a faraway land.
"
Lord Blackwood looked unconvinced.
"A merchant with no wares? And dressed like a… a… peasant?" He gestured disdainfully at Jack's jeans and t-shirt.
Before Jack could concoct another improbable lie, a distraction arrived in the form of a young woman with kind eyes and an elegant gown.
This must be Isabella.
"Father," she said, her voice like calming music, "perhaps the… merchant is simply lost." She turned to Jack, offering a tentative smile.
"Are you alright, sir?"
"Just a bit disoriented," Jack managed, throwing her what he hoped was a charming grin.
Score one for being rescued by a beautiful damsel.
Meanwhile, in the nearby village market, John Smith, a local farmer, lamented the meager offerings.
"The drought has been harsh this year," he sighed to Lady Eleanor, a maid from the castle who often visited the market.
"I fear we won't have enough food to last the winter." Lady Eleanor, known for her sharp wit and observant nature, noticed an unusual amount of activity near the castle.
She wondered if this stranger's arrival had anything to do with the unsettling feeling in the air.